Unadulterated Something
by Throppsicle
Summary: Unadulterated loathing becomes unadulterated loving, leaving Glinda to question who she is when Elphaba flees the Emerald City. Can she save Elphaba's life when they are finally reunited? Glinda's POV. Unadulterated GELPHIE. Musicalverse, book influence.
1. Don't Touch My Socks

**AN: **_I have revised the first several chapters of this story to a) fix some typos, b) try to tone down the Galinda-speak in places where it interrupts the flow of the story. No major changes here, just some tidying up._

_**Warnings and disclaimers: **__This is, in essence, a love story between two female characters. It starts out as Gliyero but transforms into Gelphie as the story progresses. There is sexual content of both a F/M and F/F nature. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, I suggest that you back slowly away and don't make any sudden movements._

_I don't own Wicked in any of its incarnations, or the characters contained therein. I just like to borrow them and make them do silly things. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and I hope you are as easily entertained as I am. _

_Please be assured that any egregiously spelled or misused words are intentional. I've had several epic battles with my spell check throughout the writing of this fanfic._

**Chapter One: Don't Touch My Socks**

I imagined my first day at Shiz might go better than this. I was snubdicated by the headmistress when I asked about her Sorcery seminar which I have long inspired to, but she is going to be giving private lessons to that vulgar green-skinned Thropp girl, the same girl who is now to be my roommate. How could this happen? I was supposed to have a single room. It was secured months in advance! And if my privacy absolutely must be compromised, I would rather share a room with… well, anyone, to be blunt.

Thankfully my misfortunaries have worked to my advantage. I just about fell apart after room assignments were given and many were moved to comfort me. Now, a nice Munchkin boy is helping me carry my luggage to my dorm on the top floor of Crage Hall. It is one of the largest rooms, complete with extra closet space. But it was supposed to be mine alone!

When I arrive, the doorway is propped open and the maintenance man has just wheeled in a second bed. Oh hell.

"I believe you made a mistake," I say, batting my eyelashes at him. It is an act of desperation. "I had reservations for a single. You may want to try the room across from me."

"Morrible's orders," he answers gruffly, depositing the bed far too close to the other one and crisping my last fragile hopes.

"Thank you for your help, Biq," I say to the Munchkin. "Now I will be needing to unpack. I will see you around."

"I hope to see you around soon, Miss Galinda," he replies. I recognize the look on his face. It is one of deep and earnest infatuation. I should have never indulged his attentions, despite my distressment. Now he will be impossible to shake off.

After the Munchkin is out of sight, the maintenance man takes a long hard look at my legs. Such admirers I have already. I make a loud gagging sound as he walks out the door, making sure he hears it. Nothing is going my way, but I must take control of this situation the best that I can while I have the opportunity.

The Green One is presumably helping her invalid sister get settled into Madame Morrible's quarters. I imagine the Thropp girls getting chummy with the headmistress over tea and scones, positioning themselves to become her favorite students, and frankly it makes me sick. But it buys me some time.

I quickly test both the beds, finding the one on the right side of the room to be considerably softer. I take out my pink satin sheets to mark it as my own. Then, with all my might, I push the other bed as far to the other side of the room as it will go. For a moment, I consider pushing it into the closet. Tragically, the closet isn't quite that big. Such a pity, really, all that wasted space! I could have kept both my summer and winter wardrobes in this room. Now I'll have to rotate them between here and my home in Frottica.

I have secured some heavy tape from the janitor's room which I use to make a line down the center of the dorm, dividing it in half. I will have my side and Greenie will have hers. Perhaps, given time, I can even hang a curtain so I don't have to look at her.

I've transferred all of my clothes into my closet and I am two thirds of the way through unpacking my shoes when she finally makes her entrance. She tosses her satchel onto her bed and flops down beside it in a rather unladylike manner. I fuss with my luggage for a few more moments before I actually look up to acknowledge her. She's sitting on her bed, watching me quietly. I set down a pair of silver sequined heels and look her in the eye.

"As you may see, I have sectionated the room with this tape," I say. "That side is yours, this is mine. You may not intrude upon my side with your belongings, though I see that won't be much of a problem, given that you don't actually seem to own anything." I laugh. She says nothing, but makes a very ugly face.

"You may also not intrude upon my side with your person," I add. "I don't want your grubby hands on anything of mine." I imagine her parading around in my shoes and shudder.

"Point taken," she says, rolling her eyes dramatically as she begins unpacking her bag. "Don't touch my socks," she mutters sarcastically, clutching a dark balled-up pair to her chest. "They are very dear to my heart."

I will not even honor that with a response. I roll my eyes in turn and go back to arranging my shoes on the shelves behind my bed. Bottom row, dressy casual. Second row, casual dressy. Third row, dressy, but not dressy, if you know what I mean. Fourth row, all-holds-barred fantabulistically dressy: the kind of shoes you would wear for an audience with the Wizard. The top shelf will be adorned with handbags.

Greenie hangs a few dark dresses in her closet, leaving the majority of it empty. The wasted space one again makes me bristly. She puts drab brown sheets on her bed, pulls a stack of books out of her suitcase and sets them on a shelf. Her other shelves remain empty. It's apparent that she's finished unpacking. She perches on the edge of her mattress, gangly legs crossed at her ankles, and stares off into space. Then she notices me watching her. She sticks the toe of her boot over the line of tape and smiles at me.

I try to ignore it and focus my attention on organizing my hairclips in the top drawer of my vanity. I look back and she's got her entire foot over the line. She holds it in the air, wiggling it menacingly. Then she laughs, a horrible obnoxious cackle which makes me cover my ears.

"Oh Miss Upland, we're going to have so much fun together!" she sneers. I lift my empty suitcase and all but throw it into my closet before I walk out of the room. I am quite loath to leave her alone with my things, but I need some time to cool down before my actions become even less sophisticated, so I wander to the café in search of friendly, normal-colored faces.

* * *

Miss Pfannee is very well dressed, and her coloring is normal enough, though her foundation is far too orangey for her pale skin. I'm more bothered by this than I should be. Her childhood friend and roommate Shenshen is much more adept at applying makeup, though Pfannee is definitely the prettier of the two girls, and also the more dominant. She is tall, slender and poised. Shenshen is equally well dressed, but she is also shorter, heavier and plainer. Her nose is a little big on her face.

I am sure that Shenshen is keenly aware of her friend's poor makeup choices, but she is also aware that by failing to point them out, she's leveling the field between them. These observations make me smile because they remind me of my friends back home. It comes as little surprise to me that Pfannee and Shenshen are from Settica, just a train stop South of where I grew up.

I've been sitting with them for more than an hour and we've long-since finished our lunches. We are consolating Shenshen, who is sad about leaving her boyfriend of six months in order to attend Shiz. Actually, consolating is a relative term. Shenshen's boyfriend is now working in his father's office as some sort of lowly errand boy. Pfannee is possibly indignant that Shenshen can even think of him, given the delicious buffet of boys that are available to us here: boys from far richer and more successful families. Finally, the conversation shifts to me.

"How about you, Miss Galinda?" Pfannee asks. "Do you have a boyfriend back home?"

"Good girl," she says when I shake my head no. "Has anyone caught your eye yet?"

"Not yet, but I am notoriously picky," I respond, before I notice Biq walking with some other boys. "Unfortunately, I've caught a few more eyes than I'd like… That Munchkin is quite taken with me." I duck behind Pfannee so he won't see me.

"Excuse me Miss Galinda, can you spare some change? I wanted a soda, but I'm afraid I've come up short," Pfannee whispers pointedly as she glances at Biq. Shenshen and I both giggle as he wanders out of the cafeteria with his friends, beverage in hand. I sigh with relief that I've avoided his attention.

"Now Galinda, love is blind," Shenshen chimes in. "Well, for him, love is blonde." I groan at the pun.

"Now, I'm sure some are quite jealous of the attention you're receiving, Miss Galinda," Pfannee says, "In fact, I think they might be a bit green with envy."

Shenshen's eyes twinkle in utter delightment at her friend's facilities for wordplay, but it is all I can do not to bash my head on the table. "Great Oz," I mutter, "is there no one that doesn't know that Galinda Upland is stuck with the green girl? The two of you are so lucky, getting to room together. I have the worst luck in all of Shiz!"

"Oh dearie, it is rather awful. It was wrong of me to joke about it," Pfannee says. Shenshen pats my shoulder. Now I am the one being consolated, which is exactly the way things should be.

* * *

I spend the rest of the afternoon engaged in all manner of consoliation and conversation with Pfannee, Shenshen and numerous visitors to our table. But eventually I must return to Crage Hall where far less pleasant company awaits. I plan to turn in fairly early; I don't want to be exhausted for my first day of classes. I have not seen the Green Wonder all day. I assume she's been hiding out, which is what any green person should rightfully do. I am all too aware that by storming out earlier I have given her a sort of victory over me and I am determined to regain the footing I've lost. I don't want her to think she can send me running from my own room whenever it suits her fancy.

She is hunched over a book at her desk and doesn't seem to notice when I come in. I clear my throat and put my hands on my hips, giving her my most intimidating gaze. "Go stand outside," I say.

"I'm reading," she says, not bothering to look at me.

"Then you'll just have to read in the hallway," I answer. "I am going to change into my bedclothes, and I will not have you staring at me with your weird, creepy eyes while I am disrobing."

"Ha! I could see a better show in a coin booth," she says, her dark eyes meeting mine. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms.

"Oh, Miss Upland," she says with a smirk, "you're turning quite red. Aren't we a colorful pair right now? Though red and green tend to clash and are a bit too reminiscent of Lurlinemas for my tastes." She gives an ugly cackle. The sound is absurdly befitting of a person like her. I'm too angry to speak.

"Out, now!" I finally manage between clenched teeth.

She rises from her desk, but she takes her time leaving. Her eyes are fixed on me until she shuts the door behind her. I imagine a mangy black tail swishing in her wake and a horrible thought occurs to me. What if she really does have mange or lice or some other sort of parasite? I tiptoe to her bed, turning back the corners of the covers, inspecting for any sort of eggs. I don't see anything, so I lift up the pillow. There are no bugs, but there is a small, empty green glass bottle. I uncork it and sniff, getting only a vague aroma of something I've never smelled before. My roommate doesn't have fleas or ticks; she has secrets.

I return everything to the way it was and take an extra long time putting on my nightdress, just to spite her. Before I let her back in, I'll sit on my bed for a bit, fluff my hair, maybe stare at the ceiling… As I lean back against my pile of pillows, the door opens.

"I trust you are decent by now," my roommate says, walking in my direction. One corner of her mouth turns up in a twisted half-smile at my surprise. "Believe it or not, they gave me a key too."

"You are completely over the line!" I shout, standing up to face her.

"Out!" she shouts, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me toward the door. "I am going to change into my, ahh, bedclothes, and I don't want _you _staring at me with _your _creepy eyes!"

"Don't touch me, you brute!" I snap, folding my arms over my chest and marching out of the room. "You probably have back hair! I have no desire to see that!"

I exit the room and hear the lock click behind me. Unfortunately, I left my key behind, and after a moment I start pounding on the door. My roommate lets me back in with a scowl. She has traded her ugly boots and cap for a nightdress that looks like a potato sack. The hemline reaches to mid-calf, revealing an inch of scrawny green legs above thick wool socks that are not unlike the ones my grandpa wears. I make an audible gagging sound before I sit down on my bed to begin my nightly beauty routine.

I brush my hair and lay out my stash of skin care products. As I start to open the jar of moisturizer, I hear a obnoxious clicking sound. I look over to my roommate.

"What?" she snaps. As soon as I turn away, the sound starts up again. I'm certain she's making it. I can't give her the satisfaction of getting to me, but grrr, the noise! How am I supposed to moisturize with this racket? I give up and angrily push the little jars of crème from my mattress to the floor.

My roommate smiles smugly and snuggles up in her bed, long legs pulled up against her chest. For someone so tall and conspicuously gawky, she looks very small under the covers, coiled and green like a snake. I turn out the lamp on my bedside table and pull my covers tight around me, facing away from her. Suddenly, I feel homesick and very lonely. I have chatted and mingled all day long, but I've still ended up in this place, alone in the dark with the green girl.

* * *

"Miss Upland," Ms. Spinel says, "please sit down. I asked for a brief introduction, with emphasis on the word brief. You don't have to give us your whole life story." She chuckles like she thinks she's funny, but she's really just rude. I was in the middle of a sentence, and I happen to think that it was a rather good one.

"Excuse me, Professor, but isn't this a public speaking class?" I ask.

"We are striving for quality, Miss Upland, not quantity," she answers tersely.

"This is preprosperous," I whisper to Floren, another first-year student, right before Ms. Spinel calls on her to introduce herself. Floren gets her leg stuck on her desk when she tries to stand up and nearly trips. She also trips over her words as she makes an appropriately brief speech. I don't get why everyone else is so nervous. It's not like this class requires any thinking.

All you have to do is talk. Unfortunately, the ordeal has put me in a sour mood which continues into my next class, Ozonomics. Ozonomics is a terrible bore and my final class of the day, Introduction to Ozian History, promises to be equally boring.

I arrive at my history classroom early, so I take out my compact and start touching up my makeup. I think it has been flaking from boredom. I feel a pair of arms drape over my shoulders from behind me and I jump.

"Well, hello to you too, Galinda!" Pfannee says with a laugh.

"Pfannee!" I squeal, leaning back against her shoulder for a moment. "You're in my class! Sit next to me, sit next to me!" I pat the seat beside me excitedly. Pfannee obeys and we begin trading stories about our earlier classes. The room starts to fill up. People are talking and laughing amongst themselves until a sudden hush comes over everyone.

"Gross. Is it some kind of disease?" I hear the girl behind me whisper. A lump forms in my throat, because without even turning around to look, I know who has just walked in. I do my best to ignore Elphaba as she takes a seat on the far side of the room. It won't be so bad, if I just pretend she's not there.

"So, this weekend, I'd like to go downtown and check out some of the boutiques… " I say, continuing my conversation with Pfannee. "My dorm room is a little drab, and I want to buy some things for the walls, perhaps a curtain..."

"You can't be serious," she mutters under her breath.

"Serious?" I ask, "About shopping?" I'm confused by her response until she gesticulates to the podium where our professor has just set down his briefcase. Our professor is a Goat.

"Oh," I whisper, "this is patternedly absurd."

"Now class," the Goat says to dumbfloundered stares, "my name is Dr. Dillamond and I am honored to be teaching you. As you may have noticed, I am an Animal. I know most of you are not used to having Animal professors. But hopefully, as the term progresses and we get to know each other better, that will not be as much of a distraction to you as I am sure it is now. A fascinating semester awaits us, so let's jump right in, shall we? Only five hundred years ago, our lovely land of Oz was nothing but unpopulated forests and marshes. Would anyone care to tell me who became the first Ozians? How about you Miss…"

"Elphaba," comes the answer. I cringe at the sound of her voice. "And they were from the nomadic tribes of Quox. A change in their climate forced them South into the Glikkus and what is modern-day Munchkinland."

"Why, I'm impressed," Dr. Goat replies. From that point, all hopes of ignoring my roommate fly out the window. Every time Dr. Goat poses a question, she raises her hand to answer. Once she answers, she asks questions of her own, which send him off on all manner of tangents about the Quoxian migration.

"You were right," Pfannee whispers to me, "not that I doubted you. But she is truly insufferable. They should get a room."

"Bow chikka bow wow!" interjects a boy to our left and we try to stifle our laughter. The dialogue between Elphaba and the Goat continues amongst a sea of eye rolls and groans until I finally raise my hand.

"Miss… Gllll-inda, do you have something to add to our discussion of hunter-gather societies?" Dr. Goat asks.

"It's Ga-linda, with a 'guh.' And class ended fifteen minutes ago," I answer sternly. Elphaba shoots me a nasty look.

"Oh my, I do apologize, Miss Gllll-inda, sometimes the time gets away from me. Anyway, you all are dismissed."

"Thank you!" sighs Pfannee exasperatedly. She has to rush to her Chemistry lab. I'm disappointed. I wanted to spend more time with her. But Elphaba is apparently sticking around to continue her rousating conversation with her new best friend. On the bright side, I will have the dorm to myself.

* * *

I look up at the ceiling above my bed and shake my head with astoundishment. I suppose that when one doesn't have a social life, options for entertainment are… limited at best. Between classes, Elphaba has entertained herself by removing the tape I used to divide the room, ripping it and arranging it in the crude shape of a mouth, nose, and eyes with angry slanted brows. As I lay back on my mattress, it scowls down at me. I wonder if I should be flattered.

Not to be outdone, I rip down an eyebrow. I grab a book from Elphaba's desk, climb up on her bed, and tape it to her ceiling. I am going to do this with her entire collection, but I think better of it. I'm getting into dangerous territory and putting my own things at risk. I think about taking the book back down, but as I remember, she was very specific. She told me not to touch her socks. In that respect, she has nothing to worry about. But anything else should be fair game, so I leave the single book dangling open in the air.

I need to get back to my plan for relaxation. A long, hot shower is exactly what I need right now. I change into my pale blue bath robe and gather a towel… shampoo, conditioner, facial soap, body wash, loofah, back brush, pumice stone, lotion, and all manner of tooth implementations. I head off toward the communal bathrooms, arms full of bathing necessities. I keep stopping to pick up things I've dropped along the way, and I manage to spill some conditioner in the hall, but eventually I reach my destination. Perhaps a tote of some sort is in order.

"Please help conserve water by limiting showers to five minutes," reads a sign on the door. Yeah, right. Once I've pulled the curtain shut over my stall, I hang my robe over the rod and turn on the water, adjusting the temperature to be as hot as I can stand. I take a handful of gardenia-scented shampoo and work it into a lather on my head. Actual baths are a luxury that I will sorely miss here, but I will make due.

After close to an hour, I am clean and glowing from head to toe. I am back in my soft blue robe and my wet hair is wrapped securely in my towel. I'm brushing my teeth in the steamy mirror when who should come walking in but my green roommate, wrapped in a dull gray robe? Is there any reprievement from her?

"Fancy meeting you here, Miss Elphaba," I say. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the showering type. In fact, I would have assumed that water might have some adversary effect on you…" I laugh. She stares at me for a moment, then leans against the counter.

"I see your point," she smiles. "It looks like the university is trying to conserve water, and it would be wasted on someone like me. I guess I give up on bathing," she cackles and sniffs her own underarm. Gross. "Pity anyone who has to share a room with me…" She smirks, makes a completely disgraceful pirouette and leaves. What have I done?

Anyhow, dinner. It is dinnertime. I go back to the dorm just long enough to dress again, reapply my makeup, and head to the cafeteria. I grab a bowl of soup, a plate of fruit, and wait at the table I shared with Shenshen and Pfannee yesterday. I wait, poking at my food with my fork.

"Hello, Galinda," says a voice behind me. It's Biq.

"Hello," I say halfheartedly.

"Are you looking for some company?" he asks.

"Actually, I am waiting for my friends," I say coldly, "but thank you for the offer." He says an awkward goodbye and goes to sit with some boys I don't recognize. I wait, and wait. Finally, I see Milla, who lives just across the hall from my friends. I was introduced to her yesterday. I wave her over.

"Miss Milla, have you seen Miss Pfannee or Miss Shenshen?" I ask her.

"They went to dinner some time ago," she says, "in town." Milla excuses herself in a hurry and my heart sinks. I stare at my plate for a few seconds, then look over to Biq and his friends. For a moment, I even think about joining them. No, I will not sink that low. I've lost my appetite, so I dump out my food, and with a sigh, I head back to my dorm room.

Elphaba is there, sitting in her bed with a fork and a tin of smoked and salted fish. "I see that your plans to stink up our room are already underway," I groan.

* * *

It's the middle of the night. I cannot sleep. There is laughter and shuffling in the room above me: the sounds of girls who have only just met forming friendships that will follow them through essays and exams, boyfriends and breakups, holiday breaks and drunken escapades. I think of Pfannee and Shenshen and I know that, petty makeup sabotages aside, I will never be as close to either of them as they are to each other. They've known each other for too long. Maybe it would have been nice to have a roommate… a sort of somewhat human one, that is.

Eventually, the noise overhead stops and there is only silence. Silence, and the soft, even sound of my inhuman roommate's breath. Air is entering and exiting her lungs: air which ignores boundaries drawn in tape and admonitions. We are breathing in tiny particles of each other. The thought is unnerving. A few tears well in my eyes and long for the comfort of the familiar, of my bed and my room at home, or at least someone who really knows me. I miss my group of friends, none who were so inclinated to follow me here. Did I ever mean that much to them? My throat tightens as I wonder.

I take one of the pillows out from under my head and wrap my arms around it, pressing its silky surface to my face. A sniffle escapes me before I can control it and my roommate's breathing quiets. I get the odd sense she is listening to me, still as a viper in the dark. There will be no more sniffles; I can't give her that satisfaction. After a moment, her breath returns to normal. After a few more moments, I hear what can only be a snore. It is an ugly sound, but at least, somewhat human. I relax a little bit.

This is a trial but I must rise above it. I will hold myself with grace and dignity, and I will fight my way to the top of Shiz's social stratosphere. I will garner Madame Morrible's favor, and I will put Elphaba in her place. I am better than to let a stalk of asparagus get to me like she has.

A sound breaks me out of my thoughts: the sound of a book falling from the ceiling and hitting a sleeping green girl. There isn't a sweeter sound in the world. She groans softly, tosses it to the floor and keeps on snoring. I stifle a giggle and bring my fingers to my cheek to wipe away the last of my tears. My new resolutions carry me off to sleep.

I sit up in bed and rub my eyes. I've been dreaming of home, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am, until the green blur on the other side of the room comes into focus.

Elphaba woke and dressed before me. She's sitting on her bed in an awkward jumblefication of limbs, reading while absently munching on a bagel. Her range of activities seems to be limited to reading and tormenting me. I wonder what torments she has in store today. When I rise, she meets my eye, but nothing more. She slowly shuts her book, sets the uneaten part of her bagel on its cover, and leaves the room without a sound. It would be a shame to waste a good opportunity, so I take the opportunity to select my outfit for the day.

There was a light green dress I was thinking about, a fluttery gauze sort of thing, but the color doesn't sit so well with me anymore. Of course, there is pink, the old standby. I choose a knee-length skirt and matching jacket in a pale rose shade. Once I'm dressed and properly accessorated, I peek out the door to see if my roommate is still there. Unfortunately, she is. She quietly follows me back inside and looks at me, almost if she wants to say something. I want to shout at her to stop being creepy.

"Out with it!" I finally snap, causing her to jump. She looks down at her hands, then back into my eyes.

"Miss Galinda, perhaps I've been a bit too… antagonistic to you," she says, and I am more antagonized by her sudden

sincerity than I was by her uncivilized behavior. Not knowing how to respond, I turn away from her. She notices the book that was taped to her ceiling now laying on the floor and makes an odd face, softly muttering, "I've been looking for that…" She picks it up, places it on her shelf and goes back to her breakfast.

The realization is sharp and sudden as a wave of embarrassment washes over me. She's acting the way she's acting because she heard me crying! Instead of taunting me about it, she's being sympathetic, and that's worse. The green girl pities me! As if I need pity from the likes of her. I turn up my nose and go to my mirror.

"Do avoid leaving crumbs, Miss Elphaba" I say as I begin to style my hair, "You may be on a familiary basis with rodents, but I prefer not to be." Half a bagel comes flying at my head, knocking a precarious bobby pin out of place. Before I can respond, Elphaba slings her satchel over her shoulder and marches out the door. I smile. This is exactly the way that things should be.

* * *

_**Next up:** The night of the Ozdust and after. Elphie struggles with receiving attention that isn't negative, and Galinda struggles with her own motives. Stay tuned!_


	2. Approachable Curiosities

**Chapter Two: Approachable Curiosities**

Fiyero Fiyero Fiyero Fiyero! The name rolls off my tongue beautifully, and I have to look around to make sure no one has heard me. Fiyero, the Winkie prince, is attending Shiz, and he has asked me to be his date to the soiree at the Ozdust tonight! He's more handsome than I could have dreamed! When a girl is looking for a man of social standing, sometimes she has to settle for someone a little less appeteazing, someone of nasty habits or questionable virtues, in order to raise herself up in the world. Fiyero, from what I can tell, might be a bit lackadaisical when it comes to his studies, but that just adds to his charm. Everything about the man is perfect, and I think that I am in love with him already. I squeak, falling back on my mattress and kicking my legs in the air.

I'm so glad Elphaba isn't here to ruin this for me. She's probably off helping her sister get ready, being that Nessarose has a date with Biq, that irritatingly irritating Munchkin. Oh, I am so clever as to have diverted his attention to the "tragically beautiful" crippled girl from his home of Munchkinland. Maybe he will fall for her. They'd really be quite a pair. You can't tell that she's taller than him when she's always sitting down! I laugh to myself. Maybe I have done some sort of good. It's not altogether unheard of.

Why, I just helped Pfannee find the right color foundation for her skin tone yesterday, along with suggesting a particular shadow which would set off her blue eyes perfectly. My soft heart would not allow her to continue wearing inferior cosmetics. Unlike Shenshen, I have nothing to feel threatened by.

Speak of the devils, I hear a knock at the door. "Come in!" I call out gleefully, and Pfannee enters, wearing my recommendations. She is followed closely by Shenshen. They've already changed into their party dresses and they are absolutely glowing with jealousy that I have snagged up the scandalicious prince before either of them could get their manicured little fingers on him. Nonetheless, they have a duty as my best friends at Shiz to help me prepare for tonight while chummily enduring my gloatating. I embrace them both in turn.

"Girls, you look ravishing! Oh Shenshen, I love your earrings. Wherever did you get them? Pfannee, I really do like that bronze shadow on you, and look at your lashes! Oh, I'm so jealous!"

Pfannee bats her lashes on command. "I might have the lashes, but you have the date!"

"And I promise you will each have a boy on your arm by the end of the night!"

"Not a prince," Shenshen mutters under her breath. She has indeed forgotten her old boyfriend. She grins wide. "So, Galinda, lets see this dress you have talked so much about!"

I rush to my closet, ready to throw open the doors, then I pause. "Wait," I say. "You have to see it ON me. Cover your eyes." My friends obey me. I fling the closet open, quickly strip down, and pull the cascade of bright pink ruffles over my head. "Taaa-daaa!" I sing out, extending my arms. "Open your eyes."

Shenshen gasps. "Only someone with your delicate complexion could pull off such a bold shade of pink!"

Pfannee nods again, "Fiyero will be speechless."

"One of you has to zip me up, though!" I say. Shenshen obliges, painfully snagging the skin of my back in the zipper. I think it may have been intentionary.

My friends are already attending to the matter of accessorization. Pfannee is digging through a stack of hat boxes against the wall, and somehow, manages to whip out the most hideous thing on the face of Oz: a tall black hat that comes to an ugly point on top. There is a faux black flower attached to the brim. Holding it in the air, she bursts into laughter.

"Forget you saw it!" I shout, attempting to grab it away from her. She holds it just out of my reach as Shenshen watches, giggling madly.

"It was a gift from my aunt," I frown. "She has the worst taste in hats."

"You could always…" Shenshen says, between bouts of laughter, "You could always give it away."

"There's no one I hate that much," I say.

"Oh," says Pfannee, "but there is." She gives me a sly smile, and I smile back once I make the connection. Oh, this is too devious. I set the hat on the bed and begin to work on my hair. It's not five minutes later that Elphaba comes back from Nessa's quarters and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Galinda," she says, "Nessa and I were talking about you just now…"

"And I was just talking about you!" I cut her off, not caring what she and her sister would have to say about me. "I thought you might want to wear this hat to the party," I say, holding it out to her. Straight face, Galinda, straight face…

"I wasn't really planning on going," Elphaba replies with a bit of confusion, but none of her usual animosity. Of course she wouldn't go to a party of her own free will. She'd have more fun watching paint dry. In fact, I bet she's done it on occasion…

"Oh, but you must!" Pfannee insists. "Everyone is going to be there!"

"I heard your sister's going?" Shenshen asks. Like makeup, subtlety is another of Shenshen's talents. Elphaba's sister is her soft spot, the only person in Oz she doesn't outwardly hate. My roommate gives a small nod.

"And she has a date ?" Shenshen asks, "Her first?"

"Actually, yes, that's why I'm here. It seems she's very fond of this boy…" Elphaba starts to say.

"And bound to be a nervous wreck, no doubt," Shenshen quips. "I'm sure it would make her feel much better if her sister was there on the sidelines rooting for her." She smiles with a warmth that's almost believable. I press the hat toward the green girl again.

"It's really, uhh, sharp, don't you think?" I ask. She jumps as if the point might hurt her. "A smart hat for a smart girl."

She reluctantly accepts it and gives a small smile. "Thank you, Miss Galinda," she says.

"Don't mention it," I say with a casual wave of my hand.

"Nessa will be proud to see you show up in style," Pfannee grins.

"I should be off," my roommate stammers, "things to do!" Then she rushes out the door with the hat tucked beneath her arm.

"Wait a second," I say to my friends, holding up my hand cautionarily. "Hold your breath if you have to. Wait until she's gone… One more second. Okay, go ahead." We all burst out laughing.

"I wonder if she's going to look for a date of her own," Pfannee laughs. "Good luck with that one!"

"Oh Galinda," squeals Shenshen, "This is going to be fresh!"

* * *

And so, when Madame Morrible hands me the training wand, I feel like an enormous fist of guilt has punched me in the stomach. She tells me she is only accepting me into her sorcery lessons at Elphaba's insistence. My heart lodges itself in my throat. That phantom fist grabs hold of my insides and twists.

This was not supposed to happen. My roommate really liked the hat, didn't she? She wouldn't know fashion if it hit her in the head… No, it was probably because I set Nessa up with Biq. Either way, there is a real, actual heart somewhere in that green body, locked up behind all the sarcasm and sneers.

I am terrified and queasy. That is, until I see Fiyero coming toward me. I take his arm, trying to maintain my facade of happiness, which isn't too terribly hard when he compliments my dress. Elphaba won't come anyway, I tell myself. Despite all of the urging, she'll be back in Crage hall by now, nose buried in a book… I got what I wanted, no harm done. I'll start Sorcery lessons tomorrow, and I'll thank Elphaba for her kindness by tolerating her. Maybe even sometimes in public.

Those thoughts are barely fresh in my mind when a murmur comes over the crowd. I see a dark silhouette against the door: a tall, gangly figure in a pointed hat. Hesitationally, she makes a few steps forward. The murmur becomes an explosion of laughter ringing throughout the ballroom. I can see Shenshen at the punch bowl, giving me a thumbs up as Elphaba tears the hat from her head in anger. I feel dizzy with anxiety. My gut twists painfully again. I double over, nearly stumbling into Fiyero, and reach out for his arm to steady myself.

"Have you been hitting the punch already?" he asks affectionately, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I want to elbow him hard in the ribs, but I'll let him think that I'm tipsy. It's easier than explaining, admitting, to him my horrendaciousness. Stupid Elphaba, this would have been so funny, even justified, if she hadn't decided to be nice! But… this isn't the first time. She tried to be nice to me the morning after she heard me cry myself to sleep, and I threw it right back in her face. Now I've done it again and she's unarmed with pastries.

She stands in the center of the room scowling at the crowd until her dark eyes find me. They lock with mine for just a moment before she places the hat firmly back on her head. Then, as if no one else exists, she starts swaying to the strains of the band, making awkward flailing movements with her arms. I stand in place, paralyzed from her gaze.

This is painful. I have to do…something. But what can I do? We are at two different ends of the social food chain and there's no way to bridge the gap… or is there? Could I bring her across to my side without drowning my reputation? I will have to do more than tolerate her, and I'll have to do it in public.

"One thing you can say for her," says Fiyero, "She doesn't give a twig what anyone else thinks."

"Of course she does," I say, "She just doesn't show it." Because showing it would only make her vulnerable. Because being rejected for being mean, antisocial and sarcastic is better than being rejected for being green. It's her way of taking control of the situation. Fiyero says something about how it's not my fault, but it is. It is. It is. My heart is beating hard in my throat. I have to take control of this situation. I press my wand into his hand for safekeeping and give his arm a quick pat, more for my own reassurance than his. Trying not to tremble or get sick on my shoes, I walk up to my roommate, who is still dancing. She doesn't see me. I tap her shoulder, and she turns to me with the most hateful look I have ever seen.

"May I cut in?" I ask. The bravest words I've ever said.

She looks at me mistrustfully, no doubt wondering what I have planned next to humiliate her. I hold her gaze, hoping to apologize with my eyes. She has done me a greater kindness than I could have imagined and I need to make things up to her, no matter how much it hurts my pride. Slowly, I begin to sway, mimicking her dance, if one can call it that. I can feel the weight of a hundred eyes on me, but I keep my eyes focused on Elphaba. I hear a few giggles; people think I'm mocking her. I glance at her, silently pleading with her to follow my lead. To be snubdicated by my roommate in front of everyone… well, I can't say I wouldn't deserve it.

Something finally seems to click in the green girl's brain and she awkwardly begins moving her arms. I move mine in a more fluid motion. "Like this," I mouth. She copies me. For a moment, there is nothing but the two of us, responding to the music, mirroring one another. I reach out and take her hands, touching her skin for the first time. For just the briefest moment, she pauses. I have a sudden flash of terror and elation, a vague sensation that nothing will ever be the same. Then the moment's over and it's gone, leaving just the feeling of Elphaba's hands in my own.

They are soft and maybe just a tad cool. They tremble. Maybe she felt the terror too. But that's silly. She casts her eyes downward at my touch, but she reads my intentions. I raise my arm and she twirls under my guidance, then she spins me around in turn. The heaviness in the air has been lifted, and all of a sudden, the crowd bursts into applause. Applause because I have done something good, of course! I have conquered the demons of shallowness and superficiality and pride! They love me for it! I beam. The lighting is dim, but I swear Elphaba may have just colored a darker shade of green.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I shout out, to no one in particular. "Are you just going to watch us, or are you going to dance, too?" The crowd begins partnering up. I see Shenshen whispering to Pfannee, whose jaw needs to be scooped up off the floor. All the months of hard work I've done to get close to them, all of it may be for nothing now.

I look over to Fiyero. He is smiling wide with approval. His opinion is the one that matters. I realize that if I glued feathers to my head and ran through the crowd screaming, he'd probably still approve, and then it becomes less of a comfort. I also realize that I'm still clutching Elphaba's hands tightly in my own, giddy with the exhilaration and apprehension of everything I've just done. I feel her nervous little pulse in her long, slender fingers. "Isn't it fun?" I ask her, giving said fingers a gentle squeeze.

"I'm not sure fun is the word I'd choose…" she begins, but her glance trails to Nessa, who is being spun wildly in her chair by the Munchkin and a fragile smile settles on her lips. Not a sneer, but a smile, lasting only a moment, like a little flicker of light.

"Well, I've never seen that before," I say, tapping my lips and returning her smile with one of my own. She looks confused. Fiyero strides over to us, bows gallantly and kisses Elphaba's hand. Then he kisses mine.

"May I have the next dance with Miss Galinda?" he asks. Such the gentleman. My roommate nods, and as my date begins to lead me into the next song, I notice my roommate getting pulled into a circle of girls, including Floren from my Public Speaking class. They are skipping and clapping as each one takes a turn in the center. Elphaba looks absolutely mortarfied, shaking her head as they try to push her to the middle of the group.

"I'm keeping an eye on it," whispers Fiyero. "If anyone tries anything funny, we'll whirl in and save her." He whirls me and I giggle. But it turns out that Elphaba needs no saving. The crowd is taking her bad dancing in good-natured stride, cheering her on, just as happy to see her enjoying herself as I am. I smile a little bit, realizing that it's all because of me. But perhaps, there's more that I can do…

"Tomorrow, Fiyero," I say, conspiratorially, "You are going to see a whole new Elphaba."

"Oh?" he asks me.

"Yes. Mark my word, I'm giving her a makeover. She doesn't know it yet, but tonight, she's getting the full Galindification treatment. Oz knows she needs it…She and I have the same aspiration, actually. We want to work for the Wizard. And anyone in the service of his Ozness has to act as a public figure. Making her a proper public figure will take a lot of work. She's never going to be the most poised person, but I think there's an angle of quirky charm that we can work with…" I hold up my hands as if to frame her between them. The gears are turning in my brain, and I'm getting excited by the challenge that lays ahead of me.

He gives me an odd smile. "I wouldn't have pegged you for the type, but you are a right little humanitarian."

"Humanitarian," coughs Shenshen violiately as she swings past me on the arms of a suitor. I cringe.

* * *

Waiting for History class to be dismissed, I am positively glowing. Despite not having slept a Winkie - haha, I mean a wink - I am bursting with energy. I spent a wonderful night at the Ozdust in the arms of my new boyfriend, dancing and twirling and laughing. At the end of it all, he walked me back to Crage hall and treated me to a positively lovely goodnight kiss. He's already asked me to meet him tomorrow for dinner and I feel like I have him quite impressed. I've decided that I am going to marry him. He doesn't know that, but he's just going to have to deal with it.

After lunch today, I will have my first sorcery lesson ever, thanks to my roommate. No, let me correct that: thanks to my friend.

Elphaba, who I have affectionately nicknamed Elphie, is the real reason for my lack of sleep. We were up talking all night after the party and I am starting to see her in a new light. Underneath the prickly, antisocial shell, there is something soft and delicate which she has been protecting with all her might. It is the green bottle that I found under her pillow when I was looking for lice, her secret.

I'd like to think I'm used to secrets. I've had many sleepovers filled with late-night confessions and relevations but they were all about crushes and minor teenage insecurities. There was nothing could prepare me for this secret, which tugs at the very strings of my heart. Elphie feels exclusivately responsible for her mother's death and her sister's condition.

When she told me, I fussed and embraced and cuddled her and waved my hands over her in effort to magic all the bad feelings away. But her mind was unchanged. I don't know how someone so smart could believe such silly things! "There's no need to fuss, Galinda, what's past is past and there's no changing it," she said, matter-of-factly, ending the conversation.

"Elphie, maybe I can't change your past, but I can change your present. I can change the way everyone perceives you," I said, prompting her to raise a dark eyebrow. "Now that we're friends, I'm going to make you my new project..." She didn't protest as much as I expected as I took away her glasses, let down her hair and made up her face. She was oddly subdued and compliant, even as she insisted that my plan would never work.

Quirky charm indeed. She looks picturesque with my ivory jacket buttoned up over her simple dress, a bit of shimmery silver shadow on her eyelids and a gloss of Pucker-Up Pink on her lips. But where's the pink flower I clipped in her hair just this morning…? She must have taken it out already. Pick your battles, Galinda, I say to myself. This is a big step… for her. She's still got the clunky boots, mainly because I couldn't teach her to walk in heels. Better a pair of clunky boots than crutches and a cast.

Elphie has been unusually quiet in history today, so much that Dr. Dillamond has cast her a few worried glances. She hasn't engaged him, so class actually ends on time. As I gather my things, two girls approach Elphie in her seat. Saskia and Aliss. I don't know either of them well; they are not part of my crowd. I guess one could say they're a few rungs down on the social ladder. Aliss is a scrawny Gillikinese lowlander with some of the worst acne I've ever seen. Saskia is a Munchkin in every sense of the word, with broad shoulders and an awful lisp. I am curious. I edge over in their direction to find out what's going on.

"Please, have lunch with us. I insist!" says Aliss.

"I'm sorry," says Elphie, her expression strained, "I eat my lunches with Dr. Dillamond."

"You're snubbing us for a…" Saskia starts to say, but she stops when I walk up beside Elphie, gently linking my arm with hers. A week ago, I couldn't imagine doing this. But Oz be damned, Elphie is my project, and I'm incredibly suspicious of their motives.

"Well, another time then, I guess," Aliss says with a nervous grin.

"Thanks," Elphie whispers to me as the two of them walk away.

"Don't mention it," I say, giving her arm a little squeeze. "Sorcery in an hour. I'm sooo excited!"

She pats my hand awkwardly and smiles. "See you then."

Part of me feels like I should be dragging Elphie to lunch myself and making her socialize with more… elitary individuals, but I do have my other friends to attend to: friends whose opinions of me might not be very high at given moment. Speaking of which… Pfannee walks up beside me as I make my way to the cafe.

"Galinda, I must say I am truly impressed. Overnight, you've elevated your green roomie above the human zit and her girlfriend, and now they're sucking up to her! Funny, isn't it?"

"Yeah, funny," I say.

"Shenshen and I were talking this morning, and we were both so shocked by what you did last night, we didn't understand it. I thought, has Galinda Upland gone absolutely mad? She thought your feelings for Fiyero made you soft in the head. Then we realized, you're bloody brilliant! It's not just her popularity you've increased. Everyone is talking about you, but not in the way we were afraid of. You look like such a sweet little do-gooder." She elbows my ribs and smiles playfully. "Of course, we know the truth."

I want to ask her what exactly the truth is, but that might make me look ignorous.

* * *

After our Sorcery lesson, Elphie goes to the library, and I go back to Crage Hall.

The lesson was a bit of a disappointment. Madame Morrible assigned me several chapters of Magical Theory, telling me I have to read them and demonstrate a competence in the concepts they present before she will allow me to perform any actual spells. Then she left me in the corner of the gymnasium to read while Elphie got to transmute all the pieces of a tea set into completely different things. At one point, a butter dish became a frog and came hopping in my direction. I screeched. Elphie scooped it up and set it gently outside. I guess the green have to look out for each other.

I make use of my free time by dusting the dorm and making both the beds. I join Pfannee and Shenshen in the cafeteria for dinner and when I return to the room, there's still no sign of Elphie. For the first time ever, I kind of miss her. I take out my Sorcery textbook, put it in my lap, and start flipping through the pages. After half a chapter of Magical Theory, my eyes are crossing and my head hurts, so I flip to something more interesting: transmutation.

The door opens, startling me out of my reading. "Well, this is an unusual sight," Elphie quips as she walks in with a stack of books under her arm.

"Not fair!" I pout, "I study, too. You've seen it!"

"But I've never seen you look so intense about it," my roommate says.

"I'm reading about transmutation! Elphie, I want to transmute something. Will you help me transmute something?" I bounce up and down hopefully on my bed.

"Galinda," she laughs, "Transmutation is covered in chapter twelve. Have you even read chapters one through eleven yet?" I frown.

"I figured," she says. "Not even I read that fast. If you tried a transmutation spell now, it would be akin to… I don't know. Wearing high heeled shoes without knowing how to toss your hair. Someone could get hurt." She brings up her hands to her dark tresses and flicks them pathetically. "Toss toss?" she smiles.

"That was in fact painful," I giggle, setting down the book. She plops her stack of books down on her desk and I prance over to inspect them. Anthropology, Animalpology, Theology. How dull.

"Looking for something?" Elphie asks, staring at me.

"Insightations," I answer, "into you."

"And have you found any?" Her expression is curious.

"Only that you're terribly boring," I answer.

"Did you expect that to change because I'm wearing your clothing?" she asks me, seriously. "I'm not like your other friends. You might need to… lower your expectations a bit."

"Have you ever read for pleasure?" I ask.

"Most of my reading for pleasure," she answers.

"I guess what I mean to ask is, have you ever read anything pleasurable?"

"What exactly is your definition of pleasurable?" she asks, eyebrow raised. I scurry to my bed, reaching under my mattress. I pull out my favoritest book ever and thrust it excitedly into her hands.

"Warrior of Vinkus?" she reads the title, making a face as she looks at the cover. There is an illustration of a handsome young man on a snowy mountaintop, tall and dark and muscular, clad in nothing but a loincloth. Next to him, there is a demure blonde in a tattered blue dress. "Galinda, what on Oz is this?"

"Only the best romance ever written," I grin, launching into a synopsis. "Gelena is a girl of noble birth, who goes on an expedition in the Vinkus and is separated from the rest of her party. She's attacked by a lion and a tribesman saves her, then takes her to his camp. She stays with him, because it is safer than being in the wilderness alone. They can't really talk to each other, being as they don't speak the same language. But for as rough as he is, he is gentle to her and he takes care of her, never asking for anything in return. Of course, she hopes that her family will find her and she will be able to return home. She is, after all, betrothed to a man in Gillkin. But she starts to have feelings for the Winkie tribesman. They are drawn together and then…" I pause for effect, "they make wild, passionate love!"

Elphie drops the book as if it's on fire.

"Careful!" I warn her, scooping my treasure up off the floor and smoothing the soft cover. "I've always loved this story, and it's starting to make sense. Gelena sounds a lot like Galinda, doesn't it? And Fiyero is my Winkie tribesman. I think that we are destined to be together!"

"Galinda, you're delusional," she says, pressing a cool hand to my forehead. "Are you running a fever?"

"Not funny," I say. "I'm putting it on your desk. Read it sometime when you need a distraction."

Elphie isn't paying attention anymore. She's digging in her closet. And… "No!" I shout, running toward her. I wrench the nightdress I hate so much from her hands.

"I know it's embarrassing for you, with all the microscopic and invisible people here that I might dare think of sleeping in it…" she says, trying to take the dress back from me. I wonder if I can put it through the paper chopper in Morrible's office.

"I said your whole life was going to change because of me," I say, wrapping my arms tight around the hideous garment. "I meant your whole life, right down to what you sleep in."

"Oh?" she asks.

"I have just the thing for you!" I bury her nightdress in my own dresser drawer and take out a perfectly nice silk one in a lovely wine shade. I hold it out to Elphie and she takes it cautiously, as if it might snap at her fingers. I guess I can't blame her too much after the incident with the hat.

She unfolds it, studying with a critical eye. "Good, no sequins," she finally says.

She stands for a minute then gives me a pointy look which reminds me that I am supposed to leave the room. We don't dress in front of one another: that was my rule. Now, as I walk out the door, I feel guilty. We really did get off to a bad start. She doesn't fully trust me, and the realization is like a sharp pinprick in my ribs.

After Elphie changes, she calls me back in. "I have to admit, this are pretty nice," she says, stroking the long sleeve of the nightdress. The color is too dark for my own tastes, but with her skin tone, it is quite complimentary.

I unfold my own nightdress and Elphie quickly moves to leave the room. "Stay," I tell her uncertainarily, "we're both girls here. Matter of fact, help me with these hooks, would you?" I walk over to her, lifting my hair away from the collar of my blouse, and smile reassuringly in a show of trust. She fumbles with the hooks for a second, hands shaking, then turns her back to me before I can pull my arms out of my poofy sleeves. She keeps her eyes fixed on the door as I shimmy out of my skirt and pull the peach-colored gown over my head.

When I toss my dirty clothes in the hamper, she finally relaxes and sits down on her bed to brush her hair. Immediately, I sit down beside her and pry the brush from her hands. She was surprised when I unbraided her hair last night and combed through it with my fingers, but it seemed to calm her somehow.

"You need to get yourself some dolls to dress up or something," she says, but she bends her head toward me obediently as I start playing with her hair. For someone who doesn't care how she looks, she has taken really good care of it. Either that or she's just lucky. I lift the heavy strands, marveling at the body and shiny. Her locks are blackest black, raven if one wants to put it poetically, but they have a nearly red cast when the lamplight catches them. I start brushing from the ends, gently working out any tangles I find without tugging or pulling. I am an expert!

"You know," she tells me, breaking the silence, "I used to do this all the time for Nessa. But the last person who brushed my hair was my mother."

"Nonsense! You brush your hair every night! I see you do it!" I say.

"Besides me, Galinda."

"Oh."

This is why she didn't fight against the makeover I gave her. I was inadvertently giving her something else that she's been denied: basic, simple human contact. The more I understand Elphie's past, the more I understand her strange behaviorisms.

And I feel a strong urge to make up for that lack of contact. As I reach the roots of her hair, I make broad circles over her head with the brush, letting the bristles massage her scalp. Finally, I drop all pretenses of brushing and run my fingertips lightly over the surface of her head. She gives a little sigh, which pleases me.

Her head is all loose and bobbley now. I push it from side-to-side with my hands and giggle. She is a doll, I think to myself; a limp little rag doll that's been tossed around too much and is just begging to be cuddled. A strong protective urge comes over me. I want to tell her that things will be okay from now on. She will not be ostrichsized. I will use my power and influence to protect her from anyone that would harm her. I want to throw my arms around her and squeeze for all I'm worth, but I refrain, frightened by the intensity of my feelings.

"Pretty girl," I say softly, running my fingers through my handiwork. This is where the conversation turns sour.

"I've had enough of being called pretty today. It's patronizing. As I'm sure you've noticed, Galinda, everyone suddenly wants to be my friend."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" I ask, dumbfloundered.

"It's just a bit of makeup and a different way of wearing my hair. Oh, and an immensely-popular blonde friend." She folds her arms over her chest, giving me a sideways glance over her shoulder. "It's all smoke and mirrors. I'm the same green girl; the one they screamed at. I can't accept any of it."

"Elphie," I say, carefully rebraiding her hair so that it won't tangle while she sleeps, "Popularity is all smoke and mirrors. But you are beautiful. You just haven't made the effort to show it."

I get up for a second and return with my hand mirror, holding it in front of her. "Look at this face," I say. "Look at these cheekbones, this lovely jaw line, these exquisitary eyes. And green isn't really a bad color…" She shoves the mirror back with a force that surprises me.

"I'm a curiosity," she mutters, sliding away from me. "I've just recently become a more approachable curiosity. 'Oh, have you always been green? What is it like? Can you get sunburn? Must you sun yourself to digest?' Oh, and my personal favorite, 'It's not… contagious, right?' I could make up the most ridiculous tripe, and they'd believe me. I told a girl that water would melt my skin and she believed me. She told me I was brave to leave the house. There's sooooo much water in this big, scary world." She rolls her eyes.

"There you go ruining things for yourself… you're going to have people thinking that you don't bathe. You have started bathing again, right?" I ask, bending forward to sniff her. Of course, if she wasn't bathing, I would have noticed it sooner. Silly me.

"Yes Galinda," she groans, "I never stopped." She actually smells rather nice. It's a clean scent, nothing fruity or floral, but more like the soaps and shampoos that men use. I continue to inhale her aroma for another moment and she cocks her head at me.

"Okay," I say, "so even with makeup and pretty clothes, you're never going to be like everyone else. Is that such a bad thing? Your goal shouldn't be to conform, you should want to stand out and be noticed. You want the Wizard to notice you. And you are going to stand out whether you want to or not. That's just the fact of the matter, but you can use it to your advantage."

"You would know about using things to your advantage," she says. "That's what you're doing with me."

I'm taken aback. "Elphie?" I ask.

"In addition to all the stupid questions today, I've been hearing nonstop about how positively good you are and how thankful I should be that you took mercy on me. That's what this is all about, Galinda. Your sudden benevolence is just a pedestal to stand on."

"Thank you?" I say, perhaps too quickly. Was that a compliment? No, no, it wasn't. In fact, I think she's saying the same thing to me that Pfannee was saying earlier. I feel that tugging in my chest again. Of course, befriending the friendless green girl makes me look good... Of course that's why I did it. No, it's not. I did it because she got me into Sorcery lessons. No, I'm doing it because… oh Oz. There are too many reasons. But not all of them are selfish, damn it!

"Goodnight, Galinda," Elphie says, abruptly ending the conversation and crisping all my hopes of trading manicures. I feel a hot tear trail down my cheek and wipe it away before she notices. As if she's even looking. As I settle down in bed, I try to shake off her words. I'm just going to have to try harder. Fate is a strange thing. At the beginning of the semester, I wanted to rise above the green girl and prove myself to Shiz. Now I have Shiz in the palm of my hand and I really just want to prove myself to the green girl.

As I try to sleep, I find myself thinking about the virtues of Elphie's facial features, which I tried in vain to point out to her. There is still work to be done, though… Namely her eyebrows, which could really use a tweezing. I wonder how I could convince her to let me do it. I remember ripping the eyebrow down from the tape face she made on my ceiling and break out into totally inappropriate giggles.

"I don't know what's going on in that little blonde brain of yours, but keep it there for now, would you?" Elphie says, her voice a little more gentle than before.

* * *

_**Next up:** Galinda and Fiyero have a date, or "mating rituals of the confused." Galinda continues to try to gain Elphie's trust, with lots of perfectly innocent touching… Come on, you know you're excited!_


	3. Mutual Smooshyness

**Chapter Three: Mutual Smooshyness**

There is a lovely little corner of campus where students go after class on nice days like these, with trees and benches and a well-kept pond full of koi. There is a small patch of forest just beyond the clearing which is empty except for us. Everyone is still in class and I should be in Ozonomics. Fiyero is a bad influence.

We've spread out a blanket in a patch of sunshine for our picnic lunch which is now being devoured by ants. I've ignored our ham and cheese sandwiches in favor of samplifying the fruits of Vinkus, which are far more tasty. Fiyero is nibbling on my lower lip. I thread my fingers through his dark hair and give a little yank, just enough so that he arches his back and gasps into my mouth. Perfection.

But it doesn't take long for me to get bored of this. It is how we've spent every one of our dates. Fiyero's fingertips are dancing across the exposed skin of my lower arm as his lips move across my throat. He sucks fervently at the skin. That's going to leave a mark… I look up at the powder blue sky above me, watching some whispery clouds. I want to talk. My brain needs engorgement.

"Fiyero," I say, "tell me a story?"

"Hmm," he says, lips brushing against my ear, "once upon a time, there was a lovely girl named Galinda. She was made of gingerbread and very tasty." He nips my earlobe.

"No, silly," I say, poking his chest. "I want us to get to know each other. Tell me a story about you."

"I thought we were getting to know each other just fine," he says, lowering his lips back to my neck.

"Fiyero?" I ask sweetly, clenching my fists.

"Hmm?"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Mmph…blonde," he answers.

"Mine is…" I begin, but I stop when he slides his hand under my shirt. He pinches my breast uncomfortably hard through my bra. Stupid boys. I give a yank on my bra strap and the cup slides upward, freeing my breast for him. This is our fourth date, after all. Some of this is to be expected.

More pinching. I frown, turning my head so he can't see my face. I had higher expectations. I really should be in class, I think. I hate missing my lessons and I'm starting to feel guilty. It is of the utmost importance for me to excelerate in everything I do if I want to become an advisor to the Wizard. And unfortunately, I'm already struggling a little bit.

"Fiyero, what do you want to be?" I blurt out. "I mean, what do you want to do with your life?" He immediately stops pawing me. I don't know why I asked, but at least I get some reprieve.

"Why are you asking so many questions?" he asks me, twisting a curl of my hair around his finger.

"Because… I want to know my boyfriend," I whine, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"Is that what I am now?" he asks.

"Fiyero, that's not funny!" I say, pulling myself out of his arms.

"Galinda, I was joking," he says, reaching out for me.

"Stop trying to avoid my questions," I say, standing - or rather, kneeling - firm beside him.

"It's just, I don't like to think very much about the future," he says. "While you're busy making plans for life, life makes other plans for you. When your agendas don't match up, you're only disappointed."

"That's really depressing," I say.

"I prefer to think of it as full of possibility," he says. "There are many adventures to be had if you just go where life takes you. I suppose I may go into the military because my title gives me instant rank. But I don't know." He drums his fingers on the

ground beside him. "And as for colors, I suppose I like green, like the grass and the trees…"

"Like Elphie," I giggle, moving back into his arms.

"That too. Galinda," he says, stroking my hair, "I have a story for you. Have I told you about how I got kicked out of my last school?" I shake my head.

"There was a skylight above the faculty lounge and my buddies and I, well… We found a way onto the roof. So I went up there during lunch time, took off my pants and gave those stuffy old professors the thrill of their lives."

I know that this is supposed to be funny and I should laugh. Instead, I feel my lower lip start to tremble. "You can't get kicked out of Shiz, Fiyero," I say, pulling him close to me. He freezes, puzzled by my response. "I don't want to lose you! You'll go to some other school… find some other girl to have picnics with." My eyes well up with tears. I look up at him pleadingly and he wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb.

"Galinda," he says, his light brown eyes looking into mine with the uttermost sincerity, "I would _never _leave you for another girl. You're perfect." I smile a bit between my sniffles. He pinches the tip of my nose gently. Poor guy. He's being such a good sport. But I can't let the matter go quite yet.

"If you don't want to get kicked out, Fiyero, you need to start going to class," I say.

He frowns a bit. "Okay," he says. "I guess I can go to classes sometimes. If it makes you happy, Galinda."

"Good, because then I don't have the temptation of missing classes to spend time with you." I smile and squeeze the sides of his face together so that his lips puff out like a fish's. Mr. Fishyface reaches for a sandwich and my scream is the only thing that keeps him from getting a mouthful of bugs. He tosses his buggy ham and cheese into the shrubbery.

"Wasn't hungry anyway," he shrugs. "Speaking of Elphaba," he says, "your little… project seems to be going well. She's been looking almost pretty these days."

"Oh, yes, I am pleased with that. But her feelings are all mixed up about it. I don't think she likes the attention."

"She's not used to it," he answers. "Not like you and I. We grew up with it, but I'm sure it's very overwhelming to her."

"You are very insightationary, my love," I say, innocently unbuttoning the top of his shirt and running my fingers over his collarbone. I don't see why I can't reward the boy a bit for finally having a conversation with me. "I've had some insightations about her myself."

"Such as?"

"Like you said, she's not used to the attention, because she didn't get much of it as a child. She also didn't get much affection. Nobody ever really touched her. I've decided to start touching her as often as possible." My Prince's eyes go wide and I'm not entirely sure he's reacting to the feel of my nails across his chest or to what I just said. I guess it did come out kind of odd…

"Oz help her," he chuckles, "at the mercy of your magic fingers! Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in your dorm room." I remove my hand from his chest and punch his arm.

"Fiyero! I don't have those… sorts of inclinations!" I protest. I guess I shouldn't tell him that I've been undressing in front of her, too. It all sounds rather strange outside of contextualization. I've risrobed in front of my other friends countless times, but I've never done it in a way that's quite so… deliberate. However, if my aim was to seduce, I could be much more deliberate about it. For a moment, I imagine how I'd take my clothes of for Fiyero, once we get that far. If I did _that _in front of my roommate, she'd probably die of embarrassment.

"If you don't, why is it that you look to be on the verge of giggles?" he asks, tickling my stomach. I squeal with laughter and swat away his hand.

"Totally unrelated thoughts, I assure you!"

"I'm sorry Galinda, I'm a man, after all. I have a highly active imagination," he smiles at me.

"For your information, Mr. Yero, I've been brushing her hair. I give her lots of hugs. I lean on her shoulder while she's reading. These are all perfectly normal things that girls do!"

"And I'm sure it does wonders for her wounded soul, my little humanitarian," he says, nuzzling against my cheek. "Still, it's not an altogether unpleasant mental picture…"

"Fiyero, are you saying that you actually find her attractive?" Does this mean I've done a good job? Should I be flattered? Or insulted that my boyfriend has such low standardizations? I'm completely flustered.

"You're not getting jealous, are you?" he laughs, "Of the green bean? I guess in her way she's actually quite striking, but any woman pales in comparison to your beauty. Besides, you're more striking in the literal way." He rubs his arm where I punched and his hand where I slapped. "There's one thing I've wondered though?"

"And what's that?"

"Is she green all over?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are her nipples green?" he asks with a twinkle in his eye, catching my hand and bringing it to his lips before I can strike at him again.

"How am I supposed to know? Fiyero, I don't know about you, but I don't go around studying the nipples of my friends!"

"You really should," he whispers as he kisses my wrist. "I want a full report tomorrow, starting with Miss Pfannee and Milla. And I guess Shenshen, too…" It's obvious that he has nipples on the brain, because he's going for mine again. Oh goody. Oh well. The conversation was fun while it lasted.

* * *

I settle into my chair at the usual cafeteria table to find Aliss from history sitting across from me in Shenshen's usual seat. She grins at me, looking incredibly smug. I have no time to ask questions before Pfannee returns with a tray and sits down beside her.

"Galinda," Pfannee beams, waggling a finger at me, "Somebody wasn't in class today, and I'm not talking about Fiyero, because we both know he's never there. It seems as if a little blonde may have gone missing in action with him…"

"That would be me," I say, confirming her suspicions. But… isn't she going to tell me what is going on with Aliss?

"Oh, scandalous! What did you do?" Pfannee asks, but I'm not paying attention. I am staring at Aliss's face, which is no longer covered in acne, but in mismatched pink splotches of concealer. Her usual straight brown hair is curled and she's wearing one of Pfannee's dresses. Pink, to match the splotches on her face.

"Oz to Galinda?" Pfannee asks. "Galinda, are you there? That really must have been some date!"

"Oh, yes, Fiyero. Well, we had a picnic…" I'm so distracted. Aliss. Pink blotches. Pfannee's dress. _Why_?

Shenshen shows up, taking the seat to Aliss's left. "Hi Galinda, hi Pfannee! Hi… Miss Agnes?" she says. Aliss scrunches her nose, but tries to smile. Shenshen looks bothered by the whole thing.

"Pfannee?" Can I talk to you for a second? _Over there_?" I yank my friend out of her seat and pull her to the corner of the cafeteria. "What is 'the human zit,' as you so affectionately called her, doing here, wearing your clothing?"

"Oh Galinda, I thought you'd never ask," my friend smiles. "You see, I got a pity project of my own."

"Pity project?"

"Like your roommate," she says. I feel myself get a little bristly. Elphie is a project, but not a pity project. She's a cute little green project! "I figured we could have a contest of sorts," Pfannee continues. "See who can make their adopted freak of nature more popular. Shenshen thinks I'm nuts, of course. She says I'm too competitive." I look back at Shenshen and Aliss, who are doing their best not to talk to each other. The world is going mad.

"So you're friends with Aliss now?" I ask Pfannee.

"Of course not," she replies, "though she thinks otherwise. She's really a dreadful bore. Almost wish I had picked the lispy one, she's got more spunk. Though really, she'd be more of a challenge. Anyway, lets go back to our dinner. You had a date and we need details!"

I tell my tablemates a highly embellished version of my date in which Fiyero declared his undying love for me and did such amazing things with his mouth that I almost gave him my virginity on the picnic blanket. I can't very well tell them how I'm bored of him touching me and even a little annoyed by it. I can't tell them it's a struggle to get him to use that tongue of his to talk, or how the best part of the date was when we talked about my roommate. Who, by the way, has far too much dignitary to be considered a pity project!

I guess he's like the Warrior of Vinkus. We don't speak the same language, and touch is the only way we can communicate. Yes, that makes it seem that much more romantic.

I feel sort of bad for Aliss, and not just because she's been subjected to Pfannee's cosmeticary ministrations. Every time she tries to speak, my friends basically ignore her. And it's not long before her smug expression changes into something a little more forlorn. Oh well, not my project, not my problem.

* * *

When I walk back into the dorm room, Elphie is reading. Big surprise there. She is lays on her side, propped up on her elbow, legs twisted together at the ankles. She's wearing a white sleeveless dress that I've loaned her and her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose. She doesn't even look up at me. She never does when she's reading, I don't know if she even hears me come in. An earthquake could bring Shiz to the ground around us right now and her nose would still be buried in that book. Frankly, I'm tired of the lack of acknowledgment.

I am feeling confused, wound up and flustered from my date with Fiyero and dinner with my friends. I'm in no mood to be ignored. I am going to get my roommate's attention! I leap onto the mattress next to her and start tickling her side. She starts, arms flailing wildly, and lets out a far more girlish squeak than I ever thought possible for her. I didn't know what to expect, but this reaction is pretty fantastical, so I have no intention of stopping.

Elphie rolls onto her stomach and flattens herself against the mattress, trying to crawl away from me. Not to be deterred, I straddle the backs of her legs and pin her to the bed beneath me, raking my fingers over her ribs, down her sides to her waist. She wriggles and shrieks, laughing frantically in her odd way. I don't know how I ever hated her laughter. It's the most real and genuine thing I've heard today. And I am laughing just as hard, that is, until her forehead smacks into her open book.

I should stop before she gets a conclusion. I move aside, freeing her from my grasp. Elphie looks at me almost fearfully as she sits up, rubbing her head. Her face is a dark shade of green. I gently pluck her glasses from her nose.

"Hello, Elphaba," I say between giggles, "How nice to see you."

"If this is how you show affection, I think I preferred when you hated me," she says dryly. "It involved far less bodily injury."

"Except when that book fell on you," I say.

"That was you…?" she asks, the realization dawning.

"Elphieeee's ticklish!" I sing-song.

"I think that comes as a surprise to both of us," she frowns. "That may very well have been the most disturbing experience of my life. Consider yourself congratulated."

She wraps herself in her blanket, pulling it tightly around her sides and goes back to her book. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. But I really need to study too. I take out my Ozonomics textbook and mustard my concentration, pouring over the material that would have been covered in today's lecture. It lasts about an hour or so. My mind is so jumpy, I have a hard time focusing. I rub my temples.

"I am getting sleepy," Elphie announces, snapping her book shut. She stands, yawns and stretches her back. I'm not really paying attention to her, that is, until I hear an unzipping sound. I look up and my dress is on the floor around her ankles. My roommate is standing in nothing but her panties, arms folded self-consciously over her bare chest. She turns her head away as I look up, casting her eyes to the floor. I don't want to stare. But she said it herself: she is a curiosity. And I am a curious. Fiyero would love to be a fly on the wall right now, I'm sure, but I am not reporting back to him about the color of… anything.

She unfolds her arms to reach for the nightdress. My eyes follow the graceful curve of her spine. It is the only significant curve on her body. I can see the sharp outlines of her ribs through her emerald skin. Her breasts are small, too small to require the use of a bra, though the right bra could definitely give her a little boost. I file that thought away for later. She's far too thin, but still oddly beautiful as she stretches her slender arms into the sleeves of the borrowed nightdress, letting it fall past her hips and over her lanky legs. She turns her head slowly, catching my eye for a split second. The look on her face is fearful, as if I am somehow going to hate her now that I've seen the full extension of her greenness. Quickly, I start undressing too to try to mitigate the awkwardness.

She catches me poking at a purplish bruise below my left nipple and looks away. "I should have iced it," I say. Before I put on my nightgown, I inspect myself in the mirror, looking over all the marks Fiyero's eager mouth has left. There is a trail of red patches down the side of my neck and another one above my cleavage. Badges of honor for endurance. I sigh.

Elphie sits on her bed, staring at the wall. She looks so lost… so broken. How hard it must have been for her to let someone see so much of her. I sit down behind her and reach for the hairbrush to begin our new nightly routine, hoping to reassure her that things are no different than they were before. I gather the silky strands of her mane behind her head and begin to work my way through them, but she doesn't relax the way I want her to. My little green rag doll sits rigid.

"Elphie?" I ask. She doesn't answer. The collar of her nightshirt slides down, revealing the edge of her shoulder. Without even thinking, I run the tip of my finger across the green skin. She gives a little shiver.

"Elphie, I know you share your lunches with Dr. Dillamond, but do you give him all your food?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" she asks in response.

"You're too skinny," I say, tracing back and forth over the line of bone beneath her exposed skin. "It worries me a little."

"Less to gawk at," she says with a shrug.

"Stop saying things like that!" I admonish, throwing my arms around her. I rest my forehead on the back of her neck and wrap my arms around her waist. After a moment, it occurs that I might be embracing her too tightly, because she doesn't seem to be breathing. I loosen my grip a bit and sigh with relief when I feel her inhale.

"My poor Elphie," I whisper quietly, "my favoritest roommate. I wish you liked yourself."

"Your only roommate. I like myself well enough, Galinda," she says, "That is, I exist as I am, so I might as well make the best of it." I don't like that answer. I slide my hands up to her shoulders and give a gentle squeeze, feeling her tense beneath my fingers. In response, I start kneading her tight muscles.

Suddenly, she sits up bolt-straight, jerking away from me. "What are you doing to me?" she asks, turning to look at me with wide, scared eyes.

"Massaging," I smile. "I'm not hurting you, so sit back and enjoy it. Fiyero says I have magic fingers!"

"I'm sure he is most appreciative of your talents, being as they are," she says stiffly. For the second time today, I feel tears well up in my eyes.

"Oh Elphie, is that what this is about?" I ask, pressing my hand to my breast. I've been flaunting my exploits in front of my friend. Now, she thinks I'm easy. I feel ashamed. "What you must think of me for letting him get this far this soon. I promise you though, I stopped him there."

"No, my sweet. No," she says, the anger disappearing from her face. "Please don't cry. You're far too pretty to have red, puffy eyes. I can't bear the responsibility for that." I'm used to people being affected by my tears, but I didn't expect her to be.

She scoots up to me so that our knees are pressed together and lays her hand across the back of mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. I stare at the contrasting colors of our skin. She raises her other hand to stroke my cheek. I look up into her big, dark eyes, still feeling a little ashamed.

"What you and Fiyero do with one another is none of my concern, and what I said was completely inappropriate. You didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve my outburst the other night, either, when I said that you were just using me, because you really have been nothing but kind… Lately anyway," she adds with a small smile. "Galinda, you have to understand, I've never really had a friend before. I'm not used to kindness, to sharing secrets, to being touched. I'm especially not used to being touched, and frankly, it frightens me. I'm still recovering from the tickling, or whatever it is that you call it."

"I'm sorry, Elphie. I can stop if you want me to," I say, feeling guilty. "I know I've been evading your space a lot lately."

"No need to be sorry, it's in your nature," she says as her fingers trace over the back of my hand. "Asking you to stop would be like asking me not to be green. A pointless and totally unfair request, don't you think? And even though it scares me, I'm not sure I would want you to stop."

"If that's the case…" I lift a hand to her face and run my fingers over the soft angles of her jaw, testing her. She doesn't move or take her eyes from mine. "Turn around," I say. It's not a request; it's a command. "I'm going to finish what I started, and you are not to fuss about it."

"Yes, my sweet," she says and does as I ask. As I place my hands carefully back on her shoulders, she makes a little sound, not unlike a sob.

"If you need to cry, it's okay," I say, kneading my fingers up her neck and stroking softly behind her ears. "My momsie always said that feelings are like gas. Embarrassing to let out sometimes, but if you hold them in, it hurts like hell. Better out than in, right?"

"Oh, I bet you never break wind," Elphie chuckles quietly.

"I break wind very quietly and discreetly," I say. She laughs outright.

"I've grown rather fond of that laugh," I say. "And I may resort to unfair means in order to hear it more often. Are you ticklish here?" I ask, making little circles with my fingertips on the side of her neck. She laughs again, softly, but doesn't fight against me. I move my fingers back to the base of her neck, working them across the tops of her shoulders to where they meet her arms, alternating soft strokes with light squeezes. Finally, she's starting to loosen up.

"I guess I am a little jealous," she says to me.

"Of what?" I ask. "My quiet flatulence or my magic fingers?"

"Your bruises," she says. "Don't get me wrong, I think Fiyero is empty-headed and arrogant. But it must be nice to be wanted in that way."

"It wasn't that good," I say. "He all but chewed on me. It's a difficult balance, sometimes with boys, when they don't really know what they're doing. You want to guide them, but you can't do it too much without crisping their fragile little egos."

"Sounds… difficult," she says. "I don't think I could handle it anyway, having to deal with another person and their emotions. I can barely deal with yours ."

"Says the moodiest girl in all of Oz," I reply. "If you wanted, though, I'm sure we could find you a boyfriend. With the right bra and everything…" I make broad circles across her upper back, slowly increasing the pressure though the silk nightdress, coaxing her knotty muscles to relax under my hands.

"The right bra?" she asks.

"Well, we'll talk about that later. That and eating proper meals. Your curves need all the help they can get."

"Me with curves would be like me in pink ruffles. Rather ridiculous, really."

"As your fashion advisor, I haven't completely ruled out the pink ruffles yet," I joke. She doesn't even have a pithy response for that. She just sighs and stretches out her back as I rub under her shoulder blades, folding herself forward to give me more access. I roll my knuckles slowly down either side of her spine and across her lower back.

"I have my rag doll back!" I say triumphantly, embracing her again. "Nice and smooshy!"

"Smooshy?" Elphie slides away from me.

"Have I done something wrong?" I ask. Does smooshy have some sort of offensive meaning that I'm not aware of? I do that with words sometimes. Like when Shenshen asked if I liked her new haircut and I said "indefinitely." She didn't speak to me for days.

"Not at all, Galinda. I've just been thinking, you've been lavishing all this attention on me… So much giving with no receiving. That's not in your nature," she frowns. "Would you allow me to reciprocate? May I have the honor of making you… smooshy?"

"Oh Elphie, I thought you'd never ask!" I grin, sprawling out on her bed and making myself comfortable. I'm surprised when her hand settles lightly on the back of my head, delicately lifting and stroking my hair.

"It's really a lovely color," she says. "So different. There aren't many blondes in Munchkinland. And Oz, is it ever soft."

Her hand moves down, then, gliding over the back of my neck and across my shoulders with only the faintest of pressure.

"Mmm, a bit harder?" I ask.

"But you bruise so easily!" she says. There will be repercussions for that remark, when I am not feeling so smooshy…

* * *

I wake up in the dark to the feeling of something warm beside me and look around, confused. Elphie is in my bed. No, I'm in hers. I must have drifted off to sleep here and she didn't have the heart to kick me out. She also didn't have the common sense to take my bed. Either that, or it was beneath her dignitary to sleep on pink sheets. She is curled into a little ball as is customary for her, facing away from me. I sit up, ready to return to those soft pink sheets when she thrashes in her sleep.

"Mother," she whimpers softly.

Oh no, not this. I crawl back under the covers and stroke her hair.

"Silly girl, we've been over this," I whisper. "It's not your fault. Please, let it go." She groans and I loop my arm over her waist. "Let it go," I whisper again, curling myself around her. Finally, she seems to settle. I guess I'm staying here tonight. I feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath under my arm. She feels so terribly, painfully small.

Carefully, as not to wake her, I run my fingers along her ribs. I could count them by touch. The seed of a worry plants itself in my brain and starts to grow as I lay, sleepless.

* * *

She was already gone when I woke, which is a fairly common occurrence. Still, I was depreviated of the amusement I would have gotten from rolling over and asking, "Was it good for you?" Elphie would have turned so green; I adore the way she blushes, just as I adore her laugh. I will not give Fiyero the satisfaction of knowing that we shared a bed. I would never hear the end of it! I giggle. Oh, I'm feeling so much better about Fiyero. I'm really just feeling so much better!

My classes don't start until the afternoon today. I was able to take a long, leisurely shower before making myself up and slipping into the green dress I never thought I'd wear again. It's my boyfriend's favorite color, after all, and who am I to deny him? I don matching green heels with cream-colored stockings and an emerald necklace. I am green and crisp as an apple, and at the thought of apples, I'm ready for breakfast, so I make my way to the café.

My second-favorite Thropp is there, not that I particularly favor Nessarose but I don't really know any other Thropps, and I get the impression that their father is quite horrendulous. She's sitting alone in her chair, eating some sort of sandwich, eyes fixed on an open book sitting on the table. Maybe the sisters have more in common than they'd care to admit. It's eggs and bacon for me today, apple-smoked bacon. Once I've secured my breakfast, I decide to give Nessa some company. Maybe I can voice some of my concerns about Elphie to her.

"Good morning, Miss Nessa," I say, setting my tray down beside hers. She looks up at me and smiles gratitutionally; that kind of irks me about her. She's been so Ozdamned gratitutional since I set her up with Biq. I'm sure as soon as she opens her mouth, she'll launch into a speech about her full gratitutionality, and I like praise well enough, but she gets boring rather quickly.

"Good morning, Miss Galinda!" she chirps cheerily. "Do have a seat! I know I've told you this before, but I have so much gratitude for what you did at the Ozdust. Boq is wonderful!" You know, for as happy she is to be courted by him, you'd think she could at least get poor Biq's name right! "We took a stroll around campus last night under the stars, it was so romantic. Only, I couldn't help but feel like he wasn't totally present, if you know what I mean. He's kind, but distant… I adore him so much. Oh, Galinda, perhaps I need to be made over just as you've made over my sister. Perhaps then, my darling Munchkin boy will have eyes for me!"

"Nessa," I say, folding my hand over hers, "you are nowhere near the fashion disaster that Elphie was a week ago. I think you worry your pretty little head too much. Biq will come around, it just takes time for some boys to open up. They're scared of commitment, you know?" Good deed for the day, done. I've reached my quota.

She nods and smiles sweetly. "Of course, I didn't think of that! Perhaps I need to stop talking so much to him about our future… Only, I'm so excited. What will we name the children?" Oz, she has it worse than I have it for Fiyero. I think I am going to be a little sick. I take back what I thought about her and Elphie having things in common. Even when she was still tormenting me, Elphie wasn't nearly as tiresome.

"Speaking of your sister, though, Nessa, I wanted to talk to you about her," I say, shifting the focus away from wuvvable wittle Munchkins.

"Oh no," Nessa gulps, her smile fading, "has she gone and done something horrid? You know, you'd think she'd be more grateful, after everything you've done for her…" Grateful. Does she know any other words?

"No, Nessa, she hasn't. It's just that I'm concerned for her. I really don't know how to ask this but…" I'm suddenly feeling very awkward. Nessa pats my hand, encouraging me.

"Go on," she says. She has her sister's eyes, large and dark, framed with the thickest of lashes. They're comforting to look in. I take a deep breath and start again.

"Before Elphie and I became friends, I can't say I paid much attention to her habits," I say, "But now I'm noticing things. Things like she doesn't eat very much. She never comes down here for meals and I've concluded that she's been living on a stash of canned fish and crackers that she keeps in her closet."

"That would be Elphaba," Nessa chuckles. "I apologize, I know the fish smells awful. She loves it though. I never understood…" I stop her before she can say how grateful she is that she doesn't have to smell it anymore.

"But I think her stores are wearing thin and she hasn't replenished them. Nessa, I've heard about girls that starve themselves on purpose because they think they're bigger than they are. I don't think Elphie thinks she's big, but she definitely has some self-image problems, being with her skin and all, and I'm wondering if her not eating has something to do with that. I'm

wondering if she's trying, in a way, to disappear. Oh, Nessa, do you think Elphie has anorestsia?" I frown.

"Anorexia?" she asks me. I nod.

"Yeah, that."

"No, Galinda, she's not anorexic. It's really not as complicated as all of that. She's just stupid," Nessa says. After all her syrupy sweetness, I'm taken aback by the harshness of her words. "You see, when we came to Shiz, father gave us each an allowance. Elphaba was given enough to feed and clothe herself, but little more. Instead of using that allowance to feed and clothe herself, she has been using it to buy books. I'm sure you've noticed that little collection on her shelf expanding while the rest of her shrinks."

Oh no. Of course. That's just like her. My roommate isn't stupid… She's just thick. And neglected. Definitely neglected.

"And your allowance?" I ask Nessa before I think the better of it.

"Mine is a bit more substantial, but that's because father knows I can be trusted to be responsible," she says curtly.

"And a university student with an intelligent and intellectually curious nature buying books for herself is irresponsible?" I ask, feeling the anger rise in my cheeks.

"Those books aren't required for her classes… Her textbooks were already taken care of."

"And Miss Nessarose, you don't feel compelled in the slightest to help out your sister?" I ask, rising out of my seat. I can't be here anymore. I need to leave, or I'm going to lose my temper completely. I hate Nessa. I hate the Governor.

"Galinda, I know you care about her…" Nessa says, pleading with me. "Please don't think I don't. I've tried to talk sense in her, tell her that wasting away is unbecoming, and she just says, well, so is being green. I would give her some of my allowance, but I'd only be encouraging her bad behavior… Please don't encourage it either. It's a hard lesson, but she needs to learn it for herself."

I turn to look at her for just a second, to show her just how disgusted I am, and walk away. The only bad behavior I won't be encouraging is the consummation of smelly fish! I march straight to the counter and buy the biggest blueberry muffin I can find, then stalk back to the table where Nessa sits, looking positively stunned.

"Do you see this muffin?" I ask, waving it in her face. "This muffin is for your dear sister. My roommate. My friend. This muffin represents all the love she's been denied by you and your disgusting father, and she'll eat it if I have to force it down her throat." Okay, temper officially lost. " Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to reward bad behavior!" With a final swipe of the muffin in front of Nessa's eyes, I turn around to leave.

"Miss Galinda," she calls softly behind me, "I hope this doesn't change things between us. I don't really appreciate what you said about my father, but I am ever-so-grateful..."

* * *

_**Next up:** Galinda continues to put her magic fingers to good use… It's not as dirty as it sounds!  
_


	4. Magic Fingers

**Chapter Four: Magic Fingers**

As I round the corner of Shiz's PE center where we meet for Sorcery lessons, I catch sight of my roommate leaning up against the red brick of the building. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. My keen Galinda sense tells me that something's off… She looks pretty as ever, relaxed, even poised. But she's not wearing the outfit that I chose for her last night!

One of her long, plain navy-blue skirts is paired with a long-sleeved, peasant-style blouse. It's a billowy shade of cream which drapes perfectly over her slender figure. It absolutely cannot be hers. In fact, I know it isn't hers, because I've rummigated through her closet! The rummigating was of course followed by a moral debate with myself as to whether burning most of her outfits would be doing her a kindness. But fire and I don't really get along so well… Yes, there's a story there. No, I'm not sharing.

For once, Elphie isn't reading, but she might as well be for the far off look in her eyes. She's staring at some distant trees or the sky or something. I wonder how bad her vision really is without her glasses, because she doesn't see me until I'm right in front of her.

"And just who else are you borrowing clothes from?" I demand, pressing my palms to the wall on either side of her so she's effectively caged between my outstretched arms.

"My secret," she grins, looking totally unphased. "Do you approve?"

Upon closer inspection, I can see dark blue flowers embroidered along the modest neckline of the blouse. It's really quite pretty. I've avoided suggesting anything quite so feminine to her because of my certainty that she'd balk. Yet, she's accepted this top so readily from someone else. Totally. Not. Fair!

"It doesn't matter if I approve!" I say, dropping my arms and leaning in closer. A person unbeknownst to me is meddling with my friend, for reasons that are just as unbeknownstiary. Today, it's a peasant shirt. Tomorrow, it could be a bright orange jumper. The whole thing screams sabotage, and she's walking right into it!

"Elphie," I all-but-whisper, "it might seem like a nice gesture, but you don't know who you can trust around here! Some people might have ulterior motivates. Please just tell me it wasn't Pfannee. If she's courting you for some sick little game, Oz help me, I'll wring her pretty neck!"

"Paranoid, aren't we?" Elphie laughs, laying a hand on my shoulder. "Especially of one's own friends. What's gotten into you, Galinda?" I can't have it; I just can't! Even if this person really means well, no one else is allowed to dress my Elphie. No one else is allowed to dress her so incredibly _well_!

I pout, which is really the only acceptable response to that question.

"Fine, fine, I'll go ahead and ruin the mystique if it will ease your mind. Besides, we can't have you strangling dear sweet Pfannee. I borrowed the shirt from Nessa. My idea, actually. No ulterior motives." She smiles, holding up her hands in mock surrender.

"You did? You actually… picked this out?" Now that I think of it, I recall that the more-irritating Thropp has a fondness for this particular style of garment. I sigh with relief.

"Yes, I did. You see, I wanted to surprise you by proving that I can, in fact, dress myself if I feel moved to."

"Oh, Elphie! You dressed up for me?" I smile at her, feeling a little bit mushy.

"That, and the top you set out last night was a little short on me," she says. "Now, I'm sure you'd be positively delighted by the sight of an exposed green midriff, but I doubt the rest of the student population would be quite so thrilled. I suppose I can model the outfit for you in private, if you're terribly disappointed," she winks.

"I'm sorry, but sometimes I forget the fact that you're eight feet tall!" I protest, blushing at the later part of her comment.

"Says the one who wants to put me in heels."

"Speaking of shoes…" I crouch down to inspect her feet and sigh. She's not wearing her usual boots, but the shoes are big and clunky and black. When is she going to learn that you can't wear black with navy! Two neutrals in one outfit is a major no-no! "I guess you couldn't get everything right," I say sadly, "But still, it was a valiant effort. Now, I have a surprise for you!"

I reach in my purse and hand her the muffin I procured this morning, smiling big.

"What…is this?" she asks, unwrapping it from its paper sheathment.

"Tasty!" I respond. "Go on, eat it."

"Galinda, I'm not very hungry…"

I break off a piece of muffiny goodness in my fingers, moving it toward her mouth in spirally gesticulations. "Open up Elphie, here comes the dirigible!" I tease. She scrunches her nose and keeps her lips firmly shut as I try to thrust the muffin-piece between them. As luck would have it, this is the moment when Madame Morrible decides to come walking around the corner.

"Okay then," clucks the headmistress, shaking her head at our little scene. "Shall we get started with _important things_?"

I drop the crumb to the ground and Elphie quickly tucks the muffin away in her satchel, looking just as mortified as I am as we follow our Sorcery professor into the empty gymnasium.

* * *

Sorcery lessons have been, well, shaky at best. Today, Morrible informs us, we'll be working on levitation spells. "A request from the Wizard, himself," she grins. "Miss Elphaba, he is very interested in your progress." My roommate brightens visibly at the mention of the Wizard. Morrible hands us each a sheet of funny words jotted in her flowery script.

"Based upon your respective abilities, I will be giving each of you an object with which to learn the spell," she says. She sets a saucer in front of me. Well, that looks easy enough.

"Percival!" she shouts into the hallway, briskly clapping her hands, "Bring it in!" In response, the burly maintenance man with far too much appreciation for my legs enters the room carrying a large wrought iron bench. She expects Elphie to levitate _that_?

"Miss Elphaba, here is your challenge," Morrible grins. "I'm sure you will be up to it. This bench weighs a hundred pounds. Percival here is two-hundred-and-seventy-pounds. Actually, Miss Galinda, why don't you sit down too? That puts us at what, five hundred in all?" As if my jaw wasn't already far enough on the floor.

"Excuse me? Excuuuse me?" I demand. Morrible is estimating at least ten pounds in the wrong direction! The headmistress puts her hands on her hips and looks down her nose at me, obviously pleased with herself. Elphie shoots me a look, pressing her finger to her lips. The girl who is always making a scene doesn't want me to make a scene. Ha!

But she's right. I've wanted to study Sorcery far too badly to get kicked out for disrespecting my already-reluctant teacher. I scrunch my face at Elphie to convey my distaste and sit down on the bench, as far from Percival as I possibly can. That man smells funny.

"Now Elphaba," says Morrible, kneeling beside her favorite student, "Balance is very important. We don't want to go dropping these two, now do we?" Morrible grins evilly in my direction. I imagine the bench tilting and Percival falling on top of me or the bench smashing into my skull.

"Madame Morrible, that's dangerous!" I say, standing back up.

"So little faith my students have in me," Morrible says with a dramatic sigh. "Do you really think that if Elphaba faltered, I wouldn't catch you? You might not be one of Shiz's brightest stars, academically speaking. But I am well aware of the _weight _that the Upland name carries." Oh no, she did not just emphisate that word! This woman is calling me fat! She's one to speak, seeing as she's the size of a small cow! Deep breaths, Galinda, deep breaths. Don't give her a reaction…

"If I were let anything happen to your pretty blonde head, I'd have quite the PR nightmare on my hands!" She laughs.

"Besides, even if you don't trust old Morrible, don't you trust your friend?"

The headmistress gives me a sharp glance and I feel guilty. I look over to Elphie who is kneeling on the floor, deep in concentration, as she reads the spell silently to herself. But she takes a moment to look up and meet my eye. She doesn't look at all hurt by my…mistrust?

"I've got this," she mouths. And I actually believe her. Kind of. A little bit. I sit back down, but I grip tightly to the arm of the bench, just in case. Percival leans back, relaxed, like he sits on levitating benches every day. Or he's used to falling on his head.

"We're going to take it slowly," says Morrible. "Just a few inches at a time. Read the first paragraph please, Miss Elphaba."

I have never seen someone look so intense as Elphie looks when she's performing magic. If her reading face is faraway, her magic face is otherworldly. It gives me the chills. With her hands hovering over the text of the spell, my roommate starts chanting slowly. I feel the air grow heavy around us as if a lightening storm is impending.

I remember our first day at Shiz when Elphie managed to call Nessarose's wheelchair to her through the swarm of students. It was an outburst of raw, crazy energy. It's apparent that with practice and focus that energy is becoming a force to be rectified with. The hair stands on the back of my neck and I feel a little jolt. Surely enough, the bench is lifting slowly upward. It tilts just slightly to the right, but before anything can happen, Elphie raises her hand and we are steadied. We are hovering about two feet in the air.

Elphie chants louder and faster, and we are rising and rising. We rise until Percival's head is just inches from the high ceiling. I know if that ceiling wasn't there, Elphie could lift us all the way to the moon. Elphie, my little rag doll, who nearly sobbed in response to my touch, but was soft and yielding beneath the gentle ministrations of my hands. Elphie, who took up so little space in her bed beside me last night. Elphie, who apparently can't feed and can only sort of clothe herself.

Now my safety depends on her. If she really wanted to, she could conjugate her powers to send our bench hurtling into a wall. She could snap me in half like a twig, and frankly I'm surprised that she didn't during our first weeks here at Shiz. I treated her so badly that I surely deserved it. But now, the green girl I once loathed is holding me gently and steadily in midair. I believe her; she's got this.

"Good," says Morrible, "Now lets hone your endurance. Keep it steady until I say otherwise."

Before I started Sorcery lessons, Shenshen and I used to come to the gym to watch the boys run laps and lift weights in their sweaty little shorts. I've never lifted weights, but I would guess that holding them up is harder than the act of lifting itself. And so it seems with levitation. As Elphie continues her chant, damp beads form on her forehead, which becomes increasingly scrunchy as the moments wear on. But as hard as it must be, she never stops. She never wavers. She never lets me fall. I think Percival is snoring, but I don't want to look at him.

After what seems like an eternity, Morrible gives Elphie the cue to let us down and slowly, we return to Earth. I expect to be jarred on impact, but the landing is smooth. Once we're firmly on the ground, Percival grunts and leaps from his seat. With a quick look at my breasts, he hoists the bench up over his shoulder again and leaves the room. Good riddance!

Madame Morrible is far from the most excitable woman I've seen, but she shrieks with delight at Elphie's feat. Elphie tries to stand, but loses her balance and falls back to her knees.

"Stay put for a few minutes, my dear," the headmistress coos in a sickeningly syrupy voice. She places a hand on my roommate's shoulder. "You've exerted yourself and you need some time to recover. You won't always be so weak after casting a spell, but casting at this magnitude is still new to you, after all." Black strands of hair cling to Elphie's forehead and I badly want to fix them. Much to my distress, that's exactly what Morrible does. I'm even more distressed that it doesn't seem to bother Elphie in the least.

After much fussing over her exhausted student, Morrible finally turns to me. "Now Miss Galinda, you may play with your saucer. Try not to break it, would you?"

I feel a stab of anger that I try to ignore. I will show her what I can do! I pull my wand from my purse. Holding it in my right hand and the spell in my left, I begin to read. "Archo…plabberlatily nascious? Variskibbalyrapt?"

"It's a spell, not a question," Morrible says, rolling her eyes.

"Archoplabberlaritynacious," I say again, waving the wand. "Archoplabberlarity nascious. Variskibbalyrapt."

I try slowing it down, letting it roll off my tongue. When Elphie chanted it sounded almost musical. But coming from me, it sounds like nonsense. I raise my hands over the dish and imagine it rising, but nothing happens. Elphie is watching me with concern; Morrible is watching with amusement. I remember her words on the night at the Ozdust: _"It is my personal opinion that you don't have what it takes. I hope you prove me wrong, but I doubt you will." _My focus is slipping. My hands are shaking.

"Archoplabberlarity nascious. Variskibbalyrapt. Archoplabberlarity nascious. Variskibbalyrapt. Oz damn it all!" I exclaim in exasperation. Morrible is right; I don't have what it takes. I just barely made it here on my Elphie's coattails, and now that I'm here, I can't perform. There isn't a magical bone in this little Gillikinese body.

Before anyone can stop me, I drop the sheet of paper in my hands and bolt from the gymnasium. I think I can hear Morrible laughing behind me.

* * *

I run and run, away from the PE building, to the spot in the woods where I had my picnic with Fiyero. I throw the wand to the ground then throw myself to my knees, not caring at all that the grass will stain my stockings. I beat my fists on the hard earth and rip up handfuls of grass for a few minutes before the anger finally gives way to desperate sobs. I fold myself up into a ball as they wrack through my entire body.

Barely a moment passes before I feel a soft hand come to rest on the center of my back. "Leave me alone!" I whimper, sobbing harder. But the hand stays firmly planted and absolutely still. I am too ashamed to look at its owner. I see navy blue fabric resting in the grass beside me. I'm surprised that Elphie came instead of staying with Morrible to gloatate about her magical expertise. But Elphie isn't one to gloatate. That's me.

"Galinda?" she finally speaks. "I need to show you something."

Hesitantly, I look up at my friend through teary eyes, afraid of what I might see. She brings both of her green hands up in front of her nose, wiggling them at me like catfish whiskers. "This is my squid face," she deadpans.

And I laugh in spite of everything because it's just so ridiculous. Or rather, I try to laugh, but it comes out as an awful sputtering sound because my airways are so logged with snot and tears. Elphie claps me hard on the back. "I'm sorry!" she says worriedly as I cough, "I wasn't trying to kill you. I just wanted you to feel better."

Finally, I manage to take a few good breaths. "Elphie!" I smile, "You have a personality! And who, dare I ask, did you borrow it from?" She pretends to pout, but only for a second.

"Why did you run away?" she asks me.

"Morrible thinks I'm a joke, and what's worse, she's right!" I say. The tears are already threatening to rise again.

"You didn't even give yourself a chance to cast the spell, Galinda. You gave up way too quickly," Elphie says.

"I don't know what else I could have done, with her watching, just waiting for me to fail! I couldn't even concentrate. Not after that displayment of yours. Elphaba, you're amazing. You did the impossible and I can't even lift a measly saucer."

"I've had more practice than you, Galinda," Elphie says, "I've been taking lessons since the beginning of the semester."

"But you could do… things… before that!" I protest, "Like what you did with Nessa's wheelchair! Even then, on our first day, I was jealous of you! That was part of why I hated you. You were so green, and so badly dressed, but you were just so _good_. If it was the two of us vying for the chance to study Sorcery, I never had a chance." I feel my lower lip quiver.

"There's something you need to understand about me and magic, my sweet. For most of my life these powers have been unwelcome and completely exhausting to me. Don't think for a moment that my father fussed over my supposed talents the way that Madame Morrible does. His reaction was quite the contrary, especially when I got angry and objects would start flying around the house. Once or twice, the maids were knocked unconscious by cookware. And there was the time the chandelier almost fell on Nessa…"

I want to laugh, because I rather wish the chandelier would have fallen on the ever-so-grateful Thropp, but I stop myself when Elphie reaches up and touches her face as if recalling the sting of a slap. She closes her eyes, retreating a little bit into herself.

"You've seen how students treat me here," she says, dark eyelashes twitching. "You can imagine how much worse it was in Primary school. There was one Munchkin girl who was especially horrid. She purposely dropped her lunch tray on me. She yanked chunks out of my hair during class. Seriously, Galinda, I had bald spots…" I shudder at the thought of any harm befalling that gorgeous black hair.

"She put a dead rat in my satchel," Elphie continues, "Oz knows how she got the thing. And one day, when I got up to use the washroom, she scribbled nasty words all over the pages of the book that I was reading. Things that were so violent and vulgar I still can't believe any eleven-year-old would be capable of them… That's when I finally snapped. I didn't raise my voice; I didn't lift a finger to her. She just fell to the floor and started spasming in some awful sort of seizure. I stood there and watched her writhe until they took her away to the dispensary. It gave me nightmares later; oh Oz, it looked so painful…"

Her eyes are still closed. It frightens me. "Elphie, I feel so awful! I can't believe I was so awful to you. I can't believe I put you through that torment all over again…" I want to reach out and touch her, but I don't feel like I even deserve to, so I play with my sleeves instead.

She opens her eyes and looks at me. "Galinda, dearest, I'm not telling you all this to make you feel guilty. Your antics toward me were really quite benign, even verging on endearing. And getting you all riled up was great fun. Still is," she grins and I relax a bit. "I just want you to understand that my innate magic has been more of a curse than a gift, and learning to control it has been the hardest thing I've ever done. Much harder than levitating a bench with a very large man perched on one end, and a tiny little girl on the other."

"Not so tiny, according to Morrible," I grumble.

Elphie shrugs. "The supposed _weight_ that the Upland name carries is all in your brassiere."

"Elphie!" I blush and it's probably endearing, too.

"But Galinda, listen to me," she says. "Where I was going before you totally derailed my train of thought is that, magically, you may actually be at an advantage. You're going to be building your powers from the ground up, instead of trying to harness a cyclone. You're the opposite of me in that respect; perhaps Morrible thinks you need more emotional provocation in order to properly channel your magic, whereas I need decidedly less. Actually, I'm certain that's what she thinks, which is why she's trying to stir you up. She's really not a mean person. She's been very kind to me. I think she's just working under the assumption that it's a push you need…"

"Well, you sound so certain," I say despondently, "about building powers from the ground up. But Elphie, what if there's nothing to build with? What if I'm just completely unmagical? Forgive me for being so blunt, but Morrible's 'approach' hasn't accomplished shit."

"First of all, I don't think that anyone is inherently…unmagical. I think that there is magic in everyone, latent perhaps, but still accessible. Also, if I may be so bold, I think Morrible's approach for you is wrong. Well-intentioned, but wrong nonetheless. You're already plenty full of fire and really, those flames don't need fanning. I think you require a sort of guidance that's a little more gentle…"

"Gentle how?" I ask. Elphie smiles.

"Let me see those magic fingers of yours," she says, reaching for my fidgety hands, "the ones that can turn a green girl pretty."

She smiles as she takes my clenched fist between her palms and carefully pries it apart. She unfolds my fingers, one at a time, stroking them with her own, extending them. Her fingertips make light zigzags across my palm before she repeats the process with my other hand. It feels good. Really good. I close my eyes and sigh.

"I have faith in what these fingers can do," Elphie whispers. She looks so confidential in me that I want to start crying again. She starts searching around for something in the grass, finally lifting up a smooth oval stone. I see that she means for me to levitate it, though right now I'd be perfectly content just to have my hands massaged.

"That's heavier than the saucer," I protest weakly as she places the stone in the palm of my right hand and folds my fingers back over it.

"It has a good, even weight to it," she says. "Close your eyes now and just concentrate on the way it feels. Don't worry about levitating. Don't think about Morrible or anything else. Concentrate on this rock. Galinda, you aren't concentrating, are you? Your nose is twitching."

"I'm sorry!" I whine. "I'm trying."

"Deep breaths, Galinda, in and out. Focus on breathing, then focus on the rock. Good, that's better, now set it down…"

"I don't have the paper, with the spell…" I say.

"Forget the words. Sometimes, they just get in the way," she tells me. "Hold your hands open, like this. No, no. Don't look at me! Keep your eyes closed. The less distraction, the better! I know I'm distracting…" She arranges my hands, palms facing down, about two feet above the stone. I want to whimper when she takes her hands away. I'm terrified that I'll let her down.

"Just remember the way it felt in your hands. You can still feel it, even though it's there on the ground?" I nod but I am not really sure. "Now feel the energy that's around it."

"I can't, Elphie."

"Yes, you can," she closes her hands over top of mine. "Do you feel that crackly, bristly feeling?"

"Yes," I say hesitantly. I feel something like static, but I can't help but think that it's coming from her.

She takes her hands away again. "Focus on that," she says, "keep feeling it. Do you feel it getting stronger?" Slowly but surely, I do. It isn't her after all. Unless she's done something to me.

"Now, imagine that energy coiling tightly around the rock. Take that energy and pull it, with your fingers. No, don't actually move your fingers, just draw it to you. Pull it up."

I concentrate as hard as I can. I visualize the rock coming up off the ground, the cords of energy that connect it to my hands growing shorter.

"Yes, keep going," she whispers, then after another second, "Open your eyes, my sweet."

I cry out in shock at the sight of the rock hovering above the ground beneath my hands. Instantaneously, my concentration is broken and it falls. But the fact remains that I did it. I really did it. I'm stunned.

"You did it Galinda!" Elphie squeals. Squeals? Does Elphie… squeal? Apparently, and not just when she's being tickled. Wonders never cease.

She throws her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. It's a good hug: warm and solid. This is the first time she's initiated a hug on her own instead just of half-heartedly returning one of mine. I am so emotional that I start sobbing again into her shoulder. It's not that I'm not happy; I'm just overwhelmed. She scritches the back of my neck soothingly as I nuzzle against her. I slowly become less whelmed and wound.

She makes me feel so safe. I lift my face to press a kiss to her cheek and she blushes dark green, turning her face slightly away from mine. Another display of affection that she's just not used to, I guess.

"You know," she says, trying to sound cocky but failing miserably, "I had hoped my first kiss would be far more romantic!"

"Oh, Elphie, that's not a kiss!" I giggle. "I can give you a real kiss if you'd like."

"Pardon?" Her eyebrows shoot up in alarm and I feel her grip loosen on me.

"I've taught girls how to kiss before," I say, proudly. And I have. Not at Shiz, but plenty of times in Secondary school. I do so enjoy being an authority on something. And I'd kiss my roommate in a heartbeat; I'm not afraid of the green anymore. "I can't promise it would be romantic," I say, "but I can promise it would be good. Probably better than any boy will ever give you. In fact, it might just ruin you for kissing."

I've never seen her move so fast. She's up on her feet in an instant, dusting herself off, looking at anything and everything but me. I feel… hurt, though I don't know why it should matter. I'm about to huff that she wouldn't be able to handle me anyway, but she speaks first.

"What you propose is quite unnecessary," she says softly, "I've survived nineteen years without kisses, and I'm sure I will survive a great many more."

It's hard to stay offended when she's being so Ozdamned bleak. It's absolutely maddening. She says she wants to be wanted, then she says she can't handle peoples' emotions, then it's back to "woe is me, no one will ever want to kiss me" again when I offered to do just that! I guess I don't count. I'm just me. It's really not a stretch to imagine a boy wanting to be with her. I've never seen her show a whiff of interest in anyone, though.

She reaches down, offering me her hand, and pulls me up off the ground. "I'm starting to rub off on you," she jokes, pointing at the green smears on my stockings. "You'll probably want to change those before you go meet those conniving little friends of yours for dinner."

"Why don't we ever eat dinner together?" I ask.

"If I recall correctly, your delicate nose is quite opposed to the smell of kippered herring," she grins. "Besides, I can't give you the same rousing conversations about shoes and jewelry and whatever it is that your happy little brigade discusses. Besides, I really need to get going, I have a date…"

"WHAT?" I grab her arm.

"…with some Anthropological journals that I reserved at the library. Don't get so excited, Galinda!"

"Fine, fine! Have a good time with your stupid books," I smile. "But I know you're out of herring, and you better eat that muffin."

She leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, and raises an eyebrow. "Or else what?" she asks, in a direct challenge.

"Or else…" I lean in and try to tickle her. She takes a step backwards. "There's more where that came from," I smile. "Now off with you, you vulgar green creature." I swat her arm.

She starts walking away, throwing a glance back over her shoulder at me as I stoop down to pick up my wand from the grass.

She's smiling a lot lately. I would hope that could be attributed to me. I peel off my greenified stockings, roll them up and stick them in my handbag.

* * *

"So Morrible brings out a teacup, and I say, 'ha, don't insult me!'"

"Oh, you would, Galinda!" Shenshen laughs. She, along with Pfannee, Milla, and poor lost-looking little Aliss are all listening raptly to my story.

"Then she goes and gets this rock, and it's huge. Like, it must have been a good twenty pounds!"

"I bet it was a pebble!" Pfannee exclaims. I swat her arm.

"Wait," grins Shenshen, "She didn't tell us if she actually levitated it, or just dropped it on her foot!" I threaten to stab her with my fork.

"Well, as you can see, I don't require the use of crutches at the present moment…" I start to say.

"I'm sure she levitated it, and she did it with perfect style and grace," a voice interjects from behind me. I turn around to see Biq. How long has he been eavesdropping?

"Isn't the little peoples' table over there?" Pfannee asks, pointing to the other side of the room.

"Hey Galinda, can you levitate a munchkin?" pipes Shenshen.

"Oh, I think that certain parts of him are levitating just fine on their own," Pfannee grins. Milla laughs. Aliss looks embarrassed.

"Little parts," Shenshen adds with a sneer.

"You know what? I hate you all!" Biq announces, storming off with his tray of meatloaf.

"Oh dear!" Milla chimes as Pfannee and Shenshen break out into peels of laughter. I try to look appropriately amused, but I think of the mean little girl yanking out chunks of a younger Elphie's hair and I shudder. Except for the Munchkin thing, that little girl might as well have been one of my friends.

Biq might be irritatingly irritating, which in fact makes him quite perfect for Nessarose, but he doesn't deserve to be abused by a pack of Gillikinese girls with too much time on their hands. I slide down a bit in my seat, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. How does that saying go, if you're not part of the solution…

"So, did you levitate the rock?" Aliss asks innocently. I think I like her more right now than anyone else sitting at this table, and I think I might just have to slip her some of my secret acne remedy when Pfannee isn't looking.

"You better believe it!" I grin. "All the way up to the ceiling of the gym! You should have seen the look on Morrible's face…"

Why am I sitting here lying to these people, making myself out to sound better than I am? Certainly that's not the way to be a part of the solution, either. I bite my lip.

"Well, who do we have here?" asks Shenshen with a bit of a smirk.

I look up to see Fiyero approaching with a silly grin and a bouquet of yellow flowers. The flowers look like they were plucked from the garden right outside the cafeteria. Clumps of dirt are still hanging from the roots, and dirt is all over his hands. Real smooth, Fiyero, real smooth…

"Hi Fiyero," Pfannee practically purrs. I shoot an icy glare in her direction. My Winkie prince thrusts the flowers toward me.

"How, umm, thoughtful of you," I say, using a napkin to take the flowers from him. I hold them as far away from my dress as possible.

"Galinda, I ran into Elphaba in the library," Fiyero says. "She said you had a rough day, and that I ought to check on you. Something about sorcery lessons…"

"Oh," I laugh nervously, "You know Elphaba. Always taking things the wrong way…"

"Fiyero, do sit down, we'd love to hear Galinda's roommate's account of her rough day," says Shenshen.

"Actually, it is a beautiful evening," I say, getting out of my seat. "I think my boyfriend and I are going to go take a walk." I loop my arm through Fiyero's and artfully flick the bouquet so that a clump of dirt lands in Shenshen's soup. I pretend not to notice anything as she scoffs.

"Galinda, you just barely got here!" Pfannee whines.

"I'm sorry ladies," I say, "but I think I have some more levitating to do. You never know when these sort of things are going to, well, _come up _and when the need _arises _we really must adapt, don't you say?" With a giggle and a quick shimmy of my hips, I drag Fiyero out of the cafeteria.

* * *

"You know, I really don't understand female-speak," Fiyero says as we walk out into the warm, clear evening. "Somehow, I think there was more to that interaction with your friends than meets the eye, but damned if I know what any of it meant. Are you actually going to levitate something?"

I grab his shoulders, ignoring the question. Caught off-guard, he stumbles back into the wall. "Tell me what she told you," I say.

"All I know is that our lovely headmistress has been getting to you, your roommate was concerned and thought that you could use some cheering up," he says. "Anyway, your dashing boyfriend is here, so cheer up, Galindly-Windly."

"Galindly-Windly this!" I exclain, wanting to throttle him for being so patronizing. Instead, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his nose. The poor clueless boy has no idea, after all, how bad he almost made me look in front of my friends. I start walking toward the gardens and he trails behind me like a lost puppy.

"I levitated a rock," I tell him, plainly. No exaggeration or embellishmentation this time.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" he asks me.

"Elphie levitated a bench. With me and the maintenance man sitting on it."

"Oh," he says, stopping in his tracks. Apparently, he can't think and walk at the same time. After a moment of looking lost in thoughtful contemplation, he says, "You're still prettier than her," and we start moving again.

"That's all that Galinda Upland has going for her, isn't it?" I sigh bitterly. He reaches out and takes my hand with his dirty hand. Uck. I am touching dirt!

"No, that's not the full extent of her greatness, not by far," he smiles. "Galinda Upland is good with people. She knows exactly what they need, whether it is the gentle intrusiveness to bring a green roommate out of her misanthropic shell, or a swift kick in the rear to make a lazy boyfriend go to class. She doesn't need sorcery to make anyone do her bidding. All she has to do is smile and flutter her eyelashes. I think the Wizard needs to be afraid, because she could have all of Oz in the palm of her hand."

Who cares about the dirt? I curl against my boyfriend's chest and he puts his arms around me.

"She also kisses very, very well," he grins, leaning in toward me expectantly. Our lips meet, but only for a second before I pull away.

"Well," I say hesitantly, "there's a secret to good kissing."

"And that is what?" he asks me.

"Subtlety," I say. "One needn't always be rough, on the lips or anywhere else. Sometimes, one needs to have a more, well, gentle approach, wouldn't you say?"

"You're doing that female-speak thing again," he sighs.

I grab his collar and pull him in toward me. "A little less of this," I say, nuzzling into the crook of his throat and biting down hard on the skin. He yelps. I pull back and flutter my eyelashes.

* * *

"She arched her back and cried out as his rough hands stroked the delicate petals of her… flower." This is how my roommate greets me when I return to our room.

She is leaning back in her desk chair, legs propped up on her bed, looking very self-satisfied as she reads aloud from my copy of _Warrior of Vinkus_. I've read the same words time and time again; I know them inside-out. I've traced over the print on the page lovingly with my fingertips. But to hear them spoken by Elphie, in a purposefully monotonous voice, is really… strange.

"Galena struggled internally against his touch," she continues, dryly with little inflection.

"She kept speaking of her fiancée in Gillikin and how he must be terribly worried and how they really should not continue any farther. But of course Throg didn't understand her. All he knew is that her body was screaming out for him, so he continued in his explorations. When she thought she could take no more, he unsheathed his manly dagger and plunged it deep into her waiting center." She closes the book and sets it down in her lap, glancing at me over the tops of her glasses.

"Such a brilliant work of literature, my sweet. I can clearly see how empty my life has been without it." She's trying to embarrass me, but she won't.

"Oh, please, Elphie, don't tell me that your panties aren't at least a little bit damp," I giggle. My remark has the intended effect: her eyes go wide, her jaw drops and the cocky grin is completely erased from her face.

"Even in an entirely hypothetical world in which I might plausibly have that sort of reaction to anything, it certainly would not be such badly-written tripe," she stammers. I smile, crossing over to her side of the room, and she puts up her arms as if to defend herself. From what? Panty inspection? I giggle, flopping down on her bed.

"Elphie, do you know what goes the best with smut?"

"Do I want to know?" she asks in response.

"Chocolate chip cookies!" I beam, producing one from my purse. She accepts it, looking almost relieved. I smile to see an empty muffin wrapper sitting on her desk.

She still has her boots on and doesn't seem to care that they're making contact with her sheets. This won't do. I unbuckle one of them, sliding her foot out of it. She looks at me like I've gone crazy. I repeat the process with the other. "Elphie," I grin, as I roll down one of her thick stockings, "I'm touching your socks." I let it drop to the floor.

"Well, that's only appropriate, seeing as you've already violated me in every other possible way," she laughs.

"Thank you for sending me my Warrior of Vinkus," I say sincerely as I lift two naked green feet into my lap. "Can I paint your toenails? Pretty please?"

Cue fluttering eyelashes. She might not be as thick as Fiyero, but she melts just as easily.

"Yes," she says, "On one condition. And that is that we promise never to discuss the state of my panties again."

* * *

_**Next Up:** There will be no Chapter 5. Just the word "panties," copied and pasted over and over again until I've achieved my usual 6000+ words. Kidding! Or am I?_


	5. Sweet Dreams

**Chapter Five: Sweet Dreams**

_My childhood friend, Brillet, is not married and pregnant back in Frottica as I thought. She's here in my dorm room, sitting on Elphie's bed. Elphie is nowhere to be seen. She must be at the library. _

_Brill looks adorable in a pale pink dress; red curls spill out of the bow in her hair. It's like we never grew up. We have, though; her height is testament to that. When we were in our mid-teens, fate bestowed upon her one last precious growth spurt. I wasn't quite so lucky. But fate gave me bigger breasts, a fact of which I always reminded Brill when she teased me for being short._

"_Galinda," Brill says, "I'm so nervous about seeing Joren tomorrow night. If he tries to kiss me, I won't know what to do!"_

_Says the biggest slut in the Pertha Hills. But that all came later. Joren was the boy she dated when we were barely fourteen years old. Suddenly I understand: we are reenacting a memory. So, I sit down beside her and say exactly what I did then - "It's really not that hard, Brill. I'll show you. Close your eyes." And my lips are on hers, warm and soft, as my arm wraps around her and pulls her body close. That innocent kiss was the spark that ignited the wildfire of Brillet's adolescentary sexuality._

_When I pull away, her green eyes are gleaming. She walks to my door and opens it. There is a line of our friends outside._

"_Galinda, I'm sorry to bother you, but Brillet says you taught her how to kiss, and I am hoping perhaps that you could teach me?" asks Kora shyly. She is at the head of the line. I realize everyone else wants the same thing as her. Even some of my friends from Shiz are here. I catch sight of Aliss toward the back of the crowd. There's no Pfannee or Shenshen or Milla. Of course, they wouldn't need my help. But at the very end of the line is another familiar face: Fiyero._

_And I am so inexplicably angry to see him. So much, in fact, that I march up to him and shout, "You don't belong here! I give you enough of my time." He looks dejected and walks off. Brill goes running after him, that slut! I should be more concerned, but at this present moment, I have a job to do…_

"_Half of what makes a kiss is what you do with your hands," I patiently explain to Kora. "You can't just leave them dangling at your sides like dead fish. You have to do things like this…" I slide my fingertips over her shoulders and down her spine as I capture her mouth with my own. She shivers._

"_Galinda!" an angry voice snaps from nowhere. "Who are all these people? What in Oz are you doing in my bed?"_

_Elphie is standing over us, looking angrier than I've ever seen her. She starts chanting and all the girls turn into silver-blue smoke. I think I see Fiyero trying to look in the window; Brillet is tugging on his arm._

"_You obviously know nothing about kissing," says Elphie coldly. She storms over to her desk, sits down and starts kissing her books. She licks and caresses their covers, scrunches up the pages between her fingers and moans sensually… This is getting way too weird for me._

"_Elphie! Stop!" I cry._

"Stop what?" groans my roommate sleepily. "Was I snoring?"

It's very early in the morning. The room is dark. Elphie sits up in her bed, rubbing her eyes and looking disoriented. We still have several hours before we need to be up for class. I feel guilty for waking her.

"No, you were… well, never mind. I had a… nightmare." I guess one could call it that. I really don't want to go into the specifics.

"Sweet… come over here," she says, her voice still thick with sleep.

"I'm all right now, really," I mumble.

"Come here, Galinda," she says again kindly, patting her mattress beside her. "You know I don't take up that much space. You'll sleep easier and so will I."

I sigh and make my way to my roommate's bed. She lifts up the covers and I crawl beneath them. She wraps me up, protectively, in her arms. Even though I don't really need the comfort that she wants to give, I let my cheek rest in the soft nook below her bony shoulder and return her embrace. My hand rests itself on the middle of her back.

I feel guilty. I am a grown woman; I do not need to keep ending up huddled in bed with my friend as if the both of us are just little girls. But she never had this as a little girl. At the age when I fell asleep in piles with my friends, her peers were too busy tearing chunks out of her hair. Elphie would never admit it, but she probably needs this more than I do. Still, I could get used to this… far too used to it. Her fingers entwine themselves in my hair and rub the back of my neck.

"Sleep now, your dreams are safe," she whispers. I can feel her warm breath on my forehead. She presses her lips there, for just a second, right below my hairline. It makes me think of my "nightmare."

I am _so _glad she can't see the look on my face.

* * *

I wake up in the same position that I drifted off in: that is, wrapped up with Elphie. I blink my eyes to see a green nose just inches from my own. Her eyes are still quite closed and the corner of her mouth twitches. How adorable. How strangely… awkward. It's even more awkward when I think about the dream which lead to me ending up in this position. Thankfully, all my dreams after were far less upsetting. I dreamed of setting fire to Pfannee's shoes… and bubbles, lots and lots of bubbles.

Have I ever even seen Elphie asleep in full daylight? I don't believe I have. She always rises before me.

"Up, up, up!" I chirp. "It's time to get ready for your classes!" Her thick lashes flutter for an instant before her eyes snap open. She seems totally shocked by our proximation to one another and rolls backward, right off the mattress. My poor roommate hits the floor with a loud thud.

"Are you okay?" I ask, peeking over the side of the bed. Elphie is on her back, trying furiously to untangle herself from her sheets. I have to bite my tongue to keep from giggling.

"Yeah," she smiles up at me. "I forgot you were in my bed, Galinda. You gave me a bit of a start." She wrenches her legs free from the covers. I hold out my hand, helping her to her feet.

"You're the one who wanted me to join you," I say, matter-of-factly, "You have no place to complain."

"Well, it was that or continue to be kept awake by your whimpering and sleep-talk," Elphie responds, "and I wasn't complaining." The last part of her statement is spoken far more softly.

"Hmm, what garmentations shall I foist on my unsuspecting green victim today?" I ask, smirking as she brushes the wrinkles from her nightdress. I skip to my closet, making a mental note to pick one of my longer shirts, because we cannot have exposed green tummies roaming freely around campus, causing chaos and discord.

"You're surprisingly perky for having your sleep interrupted as it were," Elphie observes.

"That's because," I turn around, smiling over my shoulder at my roommate, "it's Friday!"

"And?" she asks me. "Oh, yes, you're going to go do something social tonight after classes. It's funny, I used to look forward to Fridays for just that reason. Peace and quiet." I pout at her. "But now I am indifferent to them. In fact, I might actually miss you a bit while you're out gallivanting with that pack of nincompoops."

I start giggling, because nincompoops is a funny word. I pull out a midnight-blue tunic with just the faintest hint of a shimmer. It will pair nicely with a black skirt, which my roommate has aplenty. "You should come out tonight, Elphie! We're going to the tavern… You know, I've never seen you drink. But I think that I should like to see it."

"Yes, I will come in my shortest skirt and my highest heels. Your friends will be so glad to see me," she says, easing out of her nightdress and pulling on the tunic, which reaches to her hips. The length and the color both suit her. I've chosen well.

"Is that sarcasm?" I ask. My roommate takes a brown skirt, of all things, from her own closet and I wordlessly take it away from her. She tries again with navy, which I also promptly confiscate.

"My sweet, why ever would you think such a thing?" Elphie asks, finally reaching for the black. "I would love to come out and effectively ruin your social life for you!"

"Elphaba," I say, narrowing my eyes, "have you forgotten the Ozdust? All of Shiz knows we're friends and I'm not ashamed of you! Come be my friend for once, in public. I would think that it was you who was ashamed of me!"

"That's not the case and you know it," Elphie replies, getting short with me.

Ignoring the harshness in her voice, I loop a belt around her waist in order to cinch the tunic and give her a more feminine silhouette. It's thick, black and shiny with an ornate silver buckle. I buckle it at the tightest notch, but it slides down to rest on her hips. I lift it up again; it slides down again. I sigh. It will have to do. My roommate cackles at my obvious frustration with her unnatural thinness. I frown, while formulating devious plans involving all manner of tasty desserts.

"You are so endearingly cute when you're trying so hard to make me into a proper girl. It's too bad your efforts are wasted," she says, ruffling my hair. It's a good thing I haven't styled it yet. I scrunch my nose in her general direction. "And you know how much I love being out in public," she continues, "especially in any place brimming with drunken university students. However, I must decline your invitation, as I have another date with my books."

"Elphie," I whine, clutching her arm, "that's not even funny! Please don't ever say it again!"

"Okay," she raises an eyebrow at me, "I have a romantic evening planned with my books."

"I hate you. I really and truly hate you, Elphaba," I answer. She stares blankly at me and I gather her up into a hug.

* * *

It's early evening and the tavern is bustling with students looking to unwind after another week of classes. Shenshen, Milla, Pfannee and I are clustered around our usual table in the corner, sipping white wine. They have not brought Aliss with them. Pfannee is getting bored of her; I assumed that would happen eventually. She's like an unnecessary appendage to their trio.

_Their trio_. It's not long ago that Pfannee, Shenshen and I were the trio. Since I've been so occupied with Fiyero, not to mention becoming closer to Elphie, I've been increasingly absent from their company. Milla has all but taken my place, not that she ever could, because she's nowhere as cute as I am. But it's rather strange how little I mind it.

On the other side of the room, Fiyero is playing pool with Avaric, who is a pompous bastard, and Biq, who the pompous bastard saw fit to invite. Every few minutes, my boyfriend glances at me and grins, right before he bends over to take a shot. My friends have taken notice to this and are quite beside themselves over the sight of his well-formed rear. I think my Winkie prince is a little bit drunk. Unfortunately, I'm not nearly drunk enough. I can't allow myself to be with present company.

Milla is discussing with great drama and flair her absolute passion for the art of crochet. She crochets most of her wintertime accessorizations herself. She's artistic; I can respect that. Pfannee is fascinated, but Shenshen is insisting that crocheted items went out of style two seasons ago.

"But they're so charmingly retro," Pfannee coos.

It is then that I feel Fiyero's hands settle firmly on my shoulders. "Galindly-Windly," he purrs against my ear, "I want to show you something."

"Oh Galindly-Windly," Shenshen echoes, provoking giggles from Pfannee and Milla, "I want to show you my pool stick. Would you mind chalking it up for me?"

I scoff at her, taking Fiyero's hand and allowing him to lead me away from the table.

"Careful with those balls," Pfannee shouts out. "Don't clunk them around too much!"

"Where are we going, my love?" I ask, feeling slightly flustered but nonetheless happy to be getting away from my friends.

"You'll see," Fiyero grins over his shoulder.

He drags me through an empty corridor and up a dark, dusty flight of stairs. At the end of the staircase, we come to a doorway. On the other side is what looks like the bedroom of some particularly unfortunate soul. A dirty straw mattress sits in the corner of a hardwood floor. It doesn't look as if it's been slept on in ages. There's an old oil lamp that's probably empty; the only illumination comes from the stars outside the window.

"Really, Fiyero, what do you take me for?" I ask, taking a step backward in shock and practically stumbling in my heels. Perhaps I've had a bit much to drink after all. But if he expects anything to happen here in this dirty hole of a room, he is out of his mind…

"Galinda, dearest, this isn't our destination. We're merely passing through here," he says, crossing the room ahead of me. He bypasses the bed and makes his way to the window, sliding it open. The cool evening breeze comes waffling in. He starts climbing out.

"Fiyero, no!" I run over, grabbing his arm and trying to tug him back. "That's dangerous!"

"Not dangerous," he insists, prying his arm out of my grasp. "Look, it's only a two-foot drop." And he's right; the window leads out to the roof. I sigh and let him climb through. He extends his hands to me.

"Fiyero, it's beautiful!" I gasp, looking up at the sky as he pulls me out into his arms.

It's a clear night: every star is visible above us. And below us, there is all of Shiz proper, with its squat homes and shops as cute as buttons in neat little rows. Not far down the street are the gates to campus. Crage and Briscoe halls stand tall against the blue-black sky. Most of the dormitory windows are lit up by electric. I find myself scanning Crage Hall, looking for the window that is mine, perhaps for a glimpse of green beyond the glass. But my room is on the other side of the building, facing away from the town and overlooking the rest of campus. I wonder what Elphie is doing. I wonder if she's really content, alone with those books, or if she's lonely…

"This is ours, all of it," my boyfriend says. "Shiz University, the town, Oz itself, and every star in the sky. Dance with me, Galinda." He sways gently. I lean against his shoulder and let him guide me in tipsy circles, watchful that we don't go too close to the edge. He hums softly in my ear. Finally, we collapse against the wall and he kisses me, gently and reverently. I pull him tightly to me, kicking off my heels and running a stocking-clad foot up his leg.

This isn't unlike a scene in Warrior of Vinkus, where Throg takes Galena to a mountaintop to watch the sunset and look at the stars… They did not touch then; not yet. They stood side-by-side in wordless longing. Fiyero, however, slides his hand up my skirt.

And he's very gentle about it; my point the previous evening was definitely taken. But he's so Ozdamned drunk that he doesn't know exactly where his fingers should be going. They fumble clumsily against my thigh before he slips them into my panties. I lean back and try to savor the moment. This is farther than we've ever gone; this is farther than I've ever gone with anyone. So what is this feeling, or rather, lack of feeling? What is this emptiness? He is touching the right parts, but they are decidedly not responding.

Is it Fiyero? Is he that unskilled? Or is it me? Am I broken somehow? After all, I dream of kissing girls and sending him away… No, I cannot even let my mind go there. It was a single dream and I have always dreamed of my Warrior, my Prince. I have him now. This beautiful boy on his knees beside me is perfect in every way. So why do I feel so numb to his touch? Tears are threatening to form in my eyes. Willing myself not to let them fall, I reach for Fiyero's hand and put a stop to his attentions.

"Galinda," he whispers.

"Shh," I tell him, shifting the two of us so he is the one leaning back against the wall. I push his shoulders back roughly, running my palms down his chest and stomach, moving lower, unbuttoning his trousers… If I am too broken to receive pleasure, at the very least I can give it. He deserves at least that from me.

* * *

It is not long after that we are walking down the stairwell and back into the smoky air of the tavern, with all of its welcome distractions. I glance at our table, shocked to find it abandoned, piled high with empty plates and glasses. Did my friends leave already? Were we on the roof for that long? Once I started touching Fiyero, things seemed to go rather… quickly.

My eyes travel around the room and I finally catch sight of Pfannee, Shenshen and Milla crowded around the pool table. The three of them could normally care less for the game, but they're presently caught up in a flurry of giggles and excitement. Avaric is deep in concentration as he faces off against what must be a very cute boy if my friends are paying so much attention. I try to catch a glimpse but the view is obscurated by the crowd.

"Galinda!" Pfannee waves Fiyero and I over, "You need to see this, this is priceless!"

The crowd parts slightly as the mysterious pool player makes their way over to the other side of the table. Sweet Oz, it's Elphie! Fiyero clamps his hand down over my mouth to keep me from squealing. "You'll make her miss her shot," he whispers in my ear. She hasn't seen me. Her brows knit in concentration as she takes aim at the white ball.

"Come on, green girl, let's see what you're made of!" Avaric sneers. Elphie hits the ball. It ricochets off the side of the table, knocking three solid-colored balls and one striped one into a hole. I don't understand this game, but I think that was a good thing.

"Not bad," says Avaric, "but you did sink one of mine."

"A reasonable sacrifice," says my roommate.

Fiyero seems to have pulled another glass of ale from thin air. Or more likely, he took it from Biq, who has just slid up beside us. "This is great," says the annoying Munchkin, "she's beating him!"

"That's my Elphie!" I say proudly, but what's she doing here after she said she wouldn't come?

"She's not aiming right," Fiyero complains. Before I can say anything to stop him, he's walking over to the table. He comes up behind Elphie, leans against her back and takes her arm in his. She jumps and stands up ramrod straight, wrenching away from him. She's barely used to me touching her, let alone any boy, even if he means well. How can Fiyero be so stupid?

Shenshen elbows me. "What on Oz is he doing?" she asks.

I am at a loss. My boyfriend keeps putting his hands on my roommate's shoulder, her elbow and her wrist in attempt to reposition her. It's obvious that she's beyond terrified, but he's too far gone to notice. I'm so embarrassed! Pfannee and Milla break out into laughter, though Shenshen can only continue to stare in bafflementation.

"You've got some competition there, Galinda," Pfannee says. I roll my eyes.

Elphie finally makes a shot, which is somehow far worse under Fiyero's guidance than the one she made previously. She moves as far away from Fiyero as she can. Avaric struts around the table and ends the game prematurely by sinking the eight-ball. The entire crowd groans with disappointment. I admit it would have been far more fun to see Elphie whoop his behind than to see him whoop his own.

"Rematch!" the pompous bastard demands, striking the pool table with his balled fists.

"There will be no rematch," I say, walking calmly up to Elphie's side. I wrap an arm around her waist and lean against her shoulder. She starts to relax against me until Fiyero puts his arms around both of us. "A drink for the victor," he says, "and one for my lovely girlfriend, of course! My treat. What would you ladies like?"

Elphie stiffens up again. She looks too mortified to speak, so I speak for her. "Some of the white wine we were drinking earlier," I say, to which she makes a face. "Or maybe some red wine? Would you prefer red wine, Elphie? Okay, red wine it is. And Fiyero, see if they're still serving those fried potatoes. We need a big order of those." Fiyero ambles off to order the requested potatoes.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to my roommate, "he's had a bit much."

She nods warily, watching him wander away.

"What made you change your mind about coming out?" I ask, leading Elphie toward our table.

"You seemed almost… hurt when I declined your invitation," she answers me. "And you've been trying so hard, I figured the least I could do was make an appearance."

"And play pool?" I arch my eyebrows at her.

"It was either that or trade gossip with those three over there," she indicates to Pfannee and company. Shenshen seems to be asking Avaric for game pointers, because now she's holding the pool stick, and he's got her practically bent over the table. Oh Oz, that's a visual I do not need right now… or ever.

Fiyero plops a plate of potatoes in front of us, followed by two glasses of wine, and takes a seat across the table. Elphie hardly touches the wine, but she picks at the potatoes. Though I intended for them to be hers, I pick at them as well. They're so tasty that I can't help it! Pfannee, probably annoyed by the fact that Shenshen is currently the center of attention, wanders back over to our table. She starts helping herself to potatoes too.

"Those potatoes are for Elphie," I warn her.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Pfannee counters.

"Galinda, really, I can't eat them all… I'll be sick!" Elphie says.

"In that case…" Fiyero grins, and starts reaching for the plate.

"Elphaba," Pfannee says, suddenly looking at my roommate very seriously, "I hope you don't mind me asking you this, but haven't you ever just tried to cover it?"

"Excuse me?" Elphie asks.

"You know, I'm surprised that Galinda didn't think of it, being the makeup genius she usually is…" Pfannee says, reaching into her purse. She takes out her concealer, unscrews the top and grabs my roommate's hand. Elphie watches in horror as Pfannee smudges a dab of concealer across her knuckles. "Of course, you'd need a lot more that that," Pfannee says.

What an idiot! That's her solution to everything: just cover it, with something that probably doesn't match at all.

"Do you know what a mess that would be?" I say. "It would crack and flake all over the place. And if she got sweaty, that would be the end of it. Not to mention, there are some places you can't put makeup, like the part in your hair. Her scalp would still be green."

"Hmm," says Pfannee thoughtfully, "I wonder if you could just bleach her skin." Elphie winces, wiping the makeup from the back of her hand with a napkin.

"Her skin is fine Pfannee, drop it," I growl.

"Green is a beautiful color," says Fiyero, grinning broadly at my roommate. "My favorite color, actually." In his current state, he seems oddly captivated by her color. He reaches out as if to touch her hand and I kick him under the table.

On that fated night at the Ozdust Ballroom, I envisioned a world where people wouldn't be so cruel to Elphie. And though people aren't being cruel to her now, they're being really, really weird. I can see how it would be disconcerting for her and why she wouldn't want to come out.

"Yes children," I say condescendingly, "Elphie is green. We've known this for a long time, and it's time to move on to a different topic."

"Elphie?" laughs Pfannee harshly. She's never heard the nickname; I've tried not to let it slip in public. "Is that Elphie-Welflie, Miss Galindly-Windly? Elphie-Welflie is a greenie-weenie!"

"You're just jealous because you don't have a cute nickname," Fiyero says smugly.

"Give me a nickname, then?" She bats her lashes at my boyfriend.

"Pantsy!" Fiyero blurts in response.

"That's not cute!" Pfannee pouts.

Elphie takes a pen out of her satchel and starts scrawling frantically on her napkin. She hands it over to me. It says, in large capital letters, "CAN WE GO HOME YET?"

"No Fiyero, no, you cannot chase the ducks," my roommate says, softly but firmly. "You'll fall flat on your face. Come on, move a little to the right, we're getting off the path."

* * *

I can't stop giggling. Elphie's being such a good sport. Fiyero's left arm is draped over her shoulder; his right arm is draped over mine and our arms are linked together behind his back. We are walking him to Briscoe Hall because he can't stand up straight on his own. He doesn't seem very keen on the idea of going back to his dorm; he keeps trying to wander away from us. No doubt he got the idea to chase waterfowl from Biq and Avaric, who left the tavern to go terrorize chickens at a nearby farm. My boyfriend wanted to go along, of course. I put a stop to that.

"Ugh, he's so heavy! Galinda, what have you been feeding him? Are you constantly forcing sweets down his throat the way you do with me?"

"I don't need to," I answer. "He's not starving to death."

"Neither am I, but if I smell his boozy breath one more time, those potatoes are coming right back up!"

"Elphie, that's disgusting!" I hiss. Fiyero makes a noise that's somewhere between a laugh and a hiccup.

"No Fiyero, not that way, we'll walk straight into that shrub," I say, tugging on his arm. "You are going to have such a hangover tomorrow, and you better not come crying to me about it. I have no sympathy for you!"

"I'm the luckiest man in Oz right now," he says, ignoring me completely. "Two beautiful women are coming back to my dorm with me."

"We are coming to the front steps of your dorm," I correct him. "Oh, look, here we are. You're going to have to make it the rest of the way by yourself. Sit out here for a little bit and sober up if you need to."

"Thank you Galindly-Windly, for _everything_," he says. He winks and nudges me in a way that's so not subtle, then leans in to give me a sloppy kiss. His breath is rather strong. I give him a little peck. "No, Fiyero," I say, as he turns toward my roommate, lips puckered, "Elphie does not need a goodnight kiss."

"I don't," she affirms, taking a step backward. "Really, I don't. I'm fine."

"She'll get her goodnight kiss from you, anyway," Fiyero says. I step on his foot, driving my heel in, and give him a shove toward the building.

"Go to bed, you drunken Winkie!" I shout. He stumbles obediently toward the door.

"I hope he doesn't hurt himself," I sigh, linking arms with Elphie to begin our walk back to Crage.

"Galinda, I never realized you were such a masochist," Elphie laughs.

"A maso-what?" I ask.

"It means someone who enjoys pain, because tonight was utterly painful," she says, "Are all your social gatherings so tedious?"

"Not always," I shrug, smiling, but I know what she means. "Besides, I hate pain," I say.

"Then why is it that whenever you're with Fiyero, you end up covered in those lovely red marks?" she grins. "You were off alone with him tonight for quite some time... Oh, my sweet, forgive me for not thinking to ask earlier! Do you require first aid? Any bite marks that need tending to?" She tilts my chin, inspecting my throat, and begins to pull back my collar in order to… peer down the front of my dress?

"Elphaba Thropp," I growl, "I hope _you _enjoy pain, because I'm about to deliver a whole lot of it."

She takes off running, cackling, in the direction of our dorm. I chase her, but sweet Oz, she's so fast! I guess there are some advantages to wearing flat shoes after all…

* * *

I should sleep in my own bed.

But I want to be cuddled.

I should sleep in my own bed.

But I don't want to be alone.

I am standing between the two beds, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"Galinda, what is the matter?" Elphie asks me as she finishes changing into her nightdress. "You look like you're contemplating the secret of existence. Let me save you some time: there isn't any. Or is my joke about masochism still bothering you? I'm sorry, my sweet. I didn't mean it."

"It's not that… It's just, I'm afraid that I'm going to have nightmares again," I say in a small voice. I hope I am convincing.

"Silly girl," says Elphie, taking me by the shoulders and gently leading me over to my own bed. Even she knows that it's better, more appropriate, for me to sleep here. She turns back my covers and I sit down on the mattress, feeling slightly ashamed of myself. Elphie goes to turn out the light and then I feel the weight of her body on the bed beside me.

"You didn't want to sleep alone, but you didn't want to sleep on my ugly sheets again. That was your dilemma?" she asks.

"Umm, something like that," I giggle as I shift into a laying position, pulling the covers up over both of us. I snuggle up to my friend, finding that soft place beneath her shoulder and resting my cheek there. "Elphie," I say, seriously, "I think I'm broken."

"Broken? How are you broken?" she asks me.

"I think maybe my… pleasure bud… is broken," I whisper, using a term from Warrior of Vinkus. "Fiyero was touching me there, and it didn't feel like anything… and maybe he's just bad at it, but maybe it's me."

"Galinda," Elphie tenses as she speaks my name, "You are not seriously trying to have this conversation with _me_? I mean, any of your other friends are surely far more knowledgeable in that department…"

"Yes, but you're the only friend I trust," I say sincerely. And I haven't thought about it like that before, but it's true. I could never talk to Shenshen or Pfannee about this. They'd laugh. They don't know how inexperienced I am really am. Elphie sighs defeatedly.

"Well, I'm certainly no authority on these matters. But Fiyero was pretty significantly inebriated by the time I got to the tavern. Alcohol affects one's fine motor skills, as well as one's perception. He was probably being clumsy and not picking up on the cues that his efforts were not having the intended effect."

"I wasn't trying to give him any cues," I say, confused. I didn't moan or whimper or yank on his arm, any of the little things I normally do to try to guide his actions.

"You shouldn't have to _give _him cues," Elphie says. "He should have been able to tell by the look on your face, the position of your body, the rhythm of your breathing… It was probably all lost on him in his drunken haze."

A shiver runs down my spine as I think of anyone paying such close attention to me, and I wonder what cues I've given off at other times, when someone might have actually noticed: someone more perceptivary, like my roommate. How much can she tell about me? Does she know I'm not really afraid of my dreams, but of what my dreams might mean? Does she know how desperately I just wanted to be in her arms tonight? The thought fills me with a sinking sort of dread, a sensation of falling. I nearly cry out.

"Oh, Galinda, you're trembling!" Elphie exclaims, pulling me closer to her. I feel so small. But her touch, her smell, the rise and fall of her chest comfort me. If she knows anything, she doesn't let on. Chances are I'm just paranoid. She plays with my hair until I calm down.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I had a moment. I'm better now. Please go on…"

"Even though you weren't drunk like your silly little boyfriend, you had a few drinks in you as well. Another thing alcohol does is diminish your response to sensation. So you might not have been in the right state to receive his attentions, either. Tell me, Galinda, has Fiyero ever… pleasured you before?"

"No," I answer, "It was the first time. It was the first time like that with anyone."

"If I may be so blunt, have you been able to… pleasure yourself?"

"Yes," I say, quietly.

"Then you are not broken, my sweet," she purrs, stroking my cheek. "You know your own body and how to make it respond. But Fiyero doesn't. He needs to learn how and where and when to touch you. And he was not in the proper frame of consciousness for that kind of learning tonight. We haven't entirely ruled out the possibility that he's a shoddy lover," she laughs, "but the problem isn't you. And if you're both sober next time something happens, I think it will go infinitely better."

"If he's a shoddy lover, I don't know what I will do! I want to spend the rest of my life with him…"

"You're not obligated to like everything he does out of sheer gratitude, Galinda, no matter how much you love him… You're better than that. I only hope that your Warrior of Vinkus can give you the Oz-shaking, toe-curling pleasure that you so deserve. But if he doesn't, speak up for yourself. Tell him what you need. Show him what to do. It might not be romantic, but it's better than suffering in silence."

"All of this coming from a girl that's never been kissed," I muse.

"Though your boyfriend seemed perfectly willing to change that tonight. If nothing else, that should have been a testament to how drunk he really was."

"Stop that," I say, "I've had enough of your self-decapitation!" She starts laughing. What's so Ozdamned funny?

"Stop laughing!" I whine, clutching her shoulders, but that only makes it worse. Her entire body convulses beneath me as her strange laugh rings out through the silence of the room. She puts her hands on my shoulders as if bracing herself against her own hysterics. Finally, she gasps for breath, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I think the word you wanted was depreciation," she says, breaking out into laughter all over again.

"Well, whatever!" I respond indignantly.

Soon, her laughter dies down, and there is nothing but the quiet rhythm of our breaths, carrying me off to sleep. There may be some things I need to sort out, but right now my dreams are beckoning…

* * *

_**Next up:** Dr. Dillamond gets fired. Magical freakout and Lion cub liberation ensue. Elphie is moody. Fiyero starts… thinking! Oh noes! But what's Galinda's place in all of this? Stay tuned!_


	6. The Storm Before the Storm

_**AN: **__If you are within traveling distance of New York City, I implore you to go see Wicked while Teal Wicks is on the cast. Her "Defying Gravity" on Saturday, 2/26 was the best I've ever seen and I want to have her unnaturally-green babies._

**Chapter Six: The Storm Before the Storm**

It's Monday morning already. Ugh.

"Galinda, sunshine, it's time to get up," a soft voice says against my ear. I groan as nimble fingers stroke my hair and caress my cheek. Unwelcome rays of sunlight fall across my face through the opened curtains. There is a dull, throbbing pain in my stomach: one which is all-too-familiar. And it's not from drinking; I haven't had any wine since Friday night. Saturday and most of Sunday were spent studying for two exams I have this week.

"Come on," the voice urges gently, "you'll never forgive me if you aren't out of bed with at least an hour to primp before your classes." I shift to look at my roommate and the pain sharpens, making me cry out and fold myself into a ball.

"Galinda?" Elphie asks, hand on my shoulder. "Galinda, are you ill?" She presses her palm to my forehead. "No fever," she says, "Did you eat something funny?"

"No, it's feminine troubles," I mutter as I feel the throbbing radiate into my lower back. She considers this for a moment, sitting cross-legged on my bed beside me: the bed we've shared every night this weekend.

"Surely, my sweet, it's not worth missing classes over," she says, stroking my hair again. "Let me fetch you something from the cafeteria. The pain will pass. Food will help."

"Elphie, I don't want to eat," I whimper. "I feel too nauseous."

"Well, I can get you the notes from History, but you're on your own for your other classes," she says.

Her voice is stern but her face is sympathetic. She reaches down with one hand and rubs circles on my stomach through the fabric of my nightdress. My body unfolds itself at her touch.

"Stay with me?" I ask, wrapping my fingers around her slender wrist.

"Galinda, you know I can't. It's just some cramps. You're a big girl, you'll be okay." She gently withdraws her hand from my grip.

"But," I plead, "I have a bad feeling. About today."

Elphie leans forward and kisses my forehead. "Galinda, there is nothing to worry about. You stay here and sleep it off. Before I go to class, I'll fill your hot water bottle and bring you some tea for the nausea."

"Thank you Elphie," I say, grabbing her wrist again and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Give Fiyero my regards, if he shows up in history? And if not, let me know so I can give him hell later?"

"You can hardly give him hell when you won't be in class either," she says with a hint of a laugh.

"Still, Fiyero can't claim it's his time of the month. He doesn't have an excuse," I smile.

She lingers for another second, just looking at me. Then she's gone, and I am folding myself up again, wrapping around my pillow and biting my lip to try to numb the pain. Somewhere in the midst of it, the hot water bottle finds its way under my sheets and I feel the brush of fingers against my cheek. Then I am alone all over again.

* * *

I sleep, just like Elphie instructioned me to. I sleep for the entire morning and some of the afternoon. When I finally awaken, it's to the sound of someone pounding on the door of my room. I slip out of bed and reach for my housecoat, noticing that the sun has gone away. The sky outside is cloudy and it's threatening to rain.

"Galinda!" Shenshen shouts as I open the door. "Where have you been?"

"I'm not feeling well…" I say. I can tell from the look on her face that something has happened; something big. Pfannee broke a heel? Milla got a bad haircut? "Whatsa matter?" I ask groggily.

"Pfannee is in the dispensary!" Shenshen hisses, pushing her way into my room and shutting the door hard behind her. "Her and fifteen other people! Apparently your roommate had some kind of magical meltdown in history class. They were caught in a spell, unable to move, but forced into some sort of horrible seizure for at least five minutes before Morrible could put a stop to it."

Oh no. Elphie. My throat tightens. My feeling was right. "What happened? Is she okay?" I ask.

"She's physically unharmed, but scared out of her wits… You need to keep your little green pet on a leash!"

"Not Pfannee!" I snap. "I'm sure she's fine."

I'm sure it sounds calloused of me, but Shenshen is pushing me. Someone must have done something absolutely horrendulous to Elphie to cause her to react in such a way, and it is her well-being that I am concerned about now above all else. "Where is Elphaba?" I ask frantically.

Shenshen slaps me hard across the face and I take a step backward, trying to steady myself.

"Galinda, you need to get your priorities straight! You're not the girl you were when you came to Shiz."

"University changes people," I say coldly.

"It's not University; it's her. She's done something to you, and I can't abide by it any longer!" Shenshen shouts at me, "I can't abide by your friendship with that unnatural creature!"

"I can't abide by your shallowness!" I retort.

"Galinda, it's more than the color of her skin. She's dangerous! She's horrid! And for as long as you continue to associate with her, I can no longer call you my friend."

"If that is the case then go, please!" I shout back, shoving her toward the door. "Let me dress, so I can go find the friend that matters."

"Galinda, you've truly lost your senses," she says as she leaves.

I am thankful it is the middle of the day and everyone is out. Only one or two stray heads poke around doorways, trying to see the source of the commutation. I ignore them. I probably have indeed lost my senses, talking so harshly to Shenshen, but I will deal with that and the consequences later. I will ignore the sting of her palm on my cheek. I will try not to let the sting of her words make me cry, or the fact that I've probably just lost her.

On some level, I'm aware that my stomach still hurts, but the pain is barely an afterthought. I gather up my hair into a loose ponytail, throw on sundress with a light jacket, and a pair of low-heeled shoes. No makeup. I look like crap, I'm sure, but it doesn't matter. I have to find Elphie. I leave the dorm room and take off in a sprint toward the history building.

* * *

The wind has picked up and it's started to rain by the time I spot Elphie walking out past the gardens. "Elphaba!" I shout. "Elphie!" She ignores me and keeps moving briskly across the field. Her hair hangs in a damp curtain around her face. Her eyes are cast to the ground. Her fists are tightly balled by her sides.

I chase after her until finally she slows her pace. I reach for her hand but she yanks it sharply away. She keeps walking, making haphazard steps, weaving through the tall grass. I hear the low rumble of thunder in the distance. We shouldn't be out here.

"Elphie, please, talk to me," I say. "You're scaring me."

"Dr. Dillamond was relieved of his duties," she mutters in a cold, monotonous voice, as if she is talking to herself rather than me. She doesn't even look at me. "Animals are no longer permitted to teach in Oz."

"So I gathered talking to the people in the history building… You had a magical freakout over that?" I ask with trepidation. Morrible must already be doing damage control, because no one besides Shenshen has mentioned Elphie. No one else seems aware of her involvement.

"Not over that, no," she mutters, still striding away toward nothing. "The new Professor, if you could call him that, he brought a Lion cub into the classroom. It was in a cage. He said that, being caged so young, the cub would never learn how to speak. He went so far as to call that progress! The cub was terrified and he was going to inject it with some sort of sedative. It was more than I could take…" She stops, looking up at the sky. "I did something, I don't know what, but it affected everyone except for me and Fiyero."

"Fiyero," I breathe, remembering that if my boyfriend went to class, he must have been somewhere in all of this.

"Fiyero grabbed the cub and we ran. He told me he was going to take it somewhere safe."

"Not him too, Elphie! I hope you realize that you're in over your head right now! You, and quite possibly Fiyero, are going to be in a lot of trouble! Why did you have to drag him into it?"

"I didn't drag him into it!" she says harshly, finally turning around to face me. "He got involved of his own accord and I'm still not sure what to make of that given his typical self-absorption!"

I put my hands on my hips, staring her down. I am angry. I am angry because I thought that someone tried to hurt or humiliate _her_, but the whole business was over an Animal! Elphie's reaction was over the top. "A lot of people were caught in your spell, Elphaba. You could have hurt someone! Don't you feel the slightest bit guilty about any of it?"

"I should, but I don't, Galinda. I don't! I'm losing my sympathy for anyone who turns a blind eye to injustice!" Her jaw is tight; her eyes are burning into mine. _"She's dangerous,"_ Shenshen's words echo in my mind.

"It's so unfair!" she shouts into the wind. "Everyone can just stand by and watch a baby Animal, a helpless infant, pace about in a cage? If that's what Shiz University is coming to, I want no part in it. A faculty that supports oppression and a student body that doesn't give a damn? They can expel me! Let them expel me!"

And then she starts trembling horribly. She looks so weak and frail that I'm afraid she'll collapse. I'm taking a chance with her mood. I've borne witness to the power of her magic and to the power of her anger. She could lash out at me magically, just as she lashed out at the entire history class. But I'm not afraid; she needs me now. I pack my anger away and throw my arms around her, steadying her against me. She stands rigid for just a second then she melts into my shoulder, sobbing violently. It's not the reaction I was expecting.

I saw Elphie on the verge of tears roughly once, when she was still overwhelmed and even scared that I was willing to touch her. I've never seen her actually cry though, let alone cry like her whole world is being shattered. And I am grateful that I managed to bring down her walls as I have; that I can hold and comfort her now; that she's allowing me to see her like this.

I am not like Elphie; I have never given much thought to matters of sociary justice. But even I am bothered by what she's describing to me: the baby Lion trapped in a cage like some common animal, separated from its parents. And even though his lectures bored me terribly, Dr. Dillamond did not deserve to be removed from his position. The powers that be have gone too far to silence those who are different. It's easy to see why it shakes my green-skinned roommate to the core. She sees herself in those Animals.

"I'm here, Elphie," I whisper, "I'm here." The rain squalls against us, the thunder rolls louder and I pull her closer, stroking her hair, her back and her arms, gently coaxing her to let out all of her anger, her frustration and her grief. She is not dangerous. She's just a scared little girl. Her main danger is to herself. And I am going to give her hell for it, after she lets out all the tears.

I look up across the field to see Madame Morrible moving toward us like some dark shadow with a gigantic umbrella. Protectively, I take a step so that I'm standing between her and Elphie as she approaches. I understand the gravity of this situation. My roommate could be expelled for the fact that she used magic on her fellow students.

"Miss Elphaba, I've been looking everywhere!" Madame Morrible annunciates. "You really gave us quite a fright. And here you are, getting positively drenched!" With a grand, sweeping gesture, she lifts her hand toward the sky. The storm stops, suddenly, and the sun is shinning again, just as brightly as it was this morning. I knew weather was Morrible's specialty, but I am in awe of her power. She takes another step toward us.

"Madame," I say, stretching out my arms as if to shield Elphie from the headmistress's wrath, "You must understand that she and Dr. Dillamond were close and his dismissal was quite a shock to her. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it." Elphie takes my wrist, lowering my arm, and steps out around me.

"I take full responsibility for what I did!" she shouts at Morrible, tears streaming down her face.

"Now my dear," Morrible says, reaching out to Elphie. My roommate regards her strangely before allowing our Sorcery professor to gather her up in an embrace. She snivels against Morrible's shoulder just as she did against mine, though perhaps a little less dramatically. This is not the time or the place, but I feel somehow cheated. What work has the headmistress done to gain so much of Elphie's trust? What gives her the right to hold my roommate the way I do? We were doing just fine before she had the audacity to show up!

"There there, child," Morrible says, patting Elphie's back. "We're all sad about poor Dr. Dillamond. Teaching was his passion, and this new pronouncement was so sudden. But we've talked about keeping your emotions in check, where magic is concerned…" Morrible catches my eye then, reading the question there.

"My precious Galinda, there's no need to worry. Your friend is not in trouble. I cannot fully condone her actions, but I understand the circumstances. Besides," she backs away from Elphie just slightly, cupping my roommate's chin in her hand, studying her face, "you, my dear, accomplished something quite remarkable. It takes a powerful magic to inhibit such a large group of people, and you did it without any sort of lasting harm to them. Your talents are far beyond your years. I'm very impressed." Elphie looks at her with a faint hint of surprise in her puffy eyes.

"I assure you my dear, I will be writing to the Wizard to inform him of this development," Morrible says. "He may wish to see you far sooner than we anticipated. In the interim, you are excused from all your classes, except for your Sorcery lessons, and we will be working very hard. I want to hone your powers to avoid another dangerous outburst." Elphie nods in understanding before Morrible fully releases her from her grip. When she does, Elphie stumbles and Morrible catches her by her arm.

"Are you feeling faint, dearie?" she asks. Elphie merely nods. "It's the exertion of magic catching up to you. Powerful as you may be, you really stretched yourself today. We should get you to the dispensary… Actually, that might not be such a good idea, considering that those seized by your spell were taken there. Oh, I still have a lot of smoothing over to do."

Morrible sighs. "It's a good thing that talents in public relations are second only to my magical gifts. Miss Galinda, can you get Miss Elphaba back to your room?"

"I think so," I say. I loop my arm around Elphie's waist, draping her arm over my shoulder. Morrible relinquishes her into my care.

"She's badly in need of rest. When you get back to the dorms, I want both of you to take hot showers, have yourselves something for dinner, and go right to bed. We can't have either of you catching cold. Galinda?"

"Yes, Madame?"

"I may have misjudged your character," she says, "and I do so apologize." I am too shocked to do anything but nod.

"Oh, well, much business to attend to!" she says and marches off just as quickly as she came. I stand still for a moment, giving Elphie the opportunity to regain her strength.

"How are you feeling?" I ask her. She gives me a faint smile.

"If it expedites my meeting with the Wizard, then perhaps something good came of this all. It just means I'll be able to set things right sooner."

"Oh, Elphie," I sigh.

* * *

Elphie is sitting at her desk, still in her robe when I bring up the tray of soup and bread. There is a book open in front of her but she's not reading; she's twirling a quill pen in her fingers absently. I set her bowl in front of her and get right to work on mine. The warm broth washes the last of the rain's chill from my bones and I savor every spoonful. Elphie takes a few sips but mostly she just plays with her spoon, swooshing it back and forth through the liquid.

"You need to eat," I tell her before tearing a chunk of bread off the loaf and stuffing it in my mouth.

"Not hungry," she groans. I guess I don't have to worry about ruining her appetite. It's time for some tough love.

"Elphaba, I need you to listen to me," I say, sitting down on her bed. She turns to face me. "You are shaken up and outraged and emotionally ravished; I understand that. But you've had your cry. You've had your coddling. Now it's time to be a grown-up and think about what you did. In my opinion, Morrible has let you off easy. Do you know how I found out about what happened in history class to begin with? Do you know why I was out looking for you?" I ask, searching her dark eyes. She blinks at me and shrugs.

"No, you didn't think about that, did you? You didn't stop to consider the big picture before you flew off the handle. Shenshen came knocking here at the dorm room. She was absolutely lividary over what you'd done. She said you were awful. I defended you, and as of now, Shenshen and I are no longer speaking. I have assumed that by extension, I am no longer speaking to Pfannee or Milla either. The three of them used to be my best friends."

Is that guilt I see in the slump of her shoulders and the twitching corners of her mouth?

"Elphie, I want you to think about that night at the Ozdust. I went out on a limb for you then and today I did it all over again with Shenshen. I put our friendship before my reputation. I worked hard so that all of Shiz would accept you, then you got angry and you threw it away like it was nothing! I'm not saying you had no right to be angry, but there are better ways of handling it. Would it be so hard for you to exercise some diplomacy instead of making a scene? Would it be so hard for you to show a little gratitution for the things I've done for you? Would it be too much to ask you to consider your reputation, or mine, for that matter?"

She laughs at me. Laughs. Oz, I could slap her! She narrows her eyes. "Galinda," she says, "don't you believe that anything is more important than how others see you?"

"Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't even be your friend!" I hiss. Oh, that came out wrong. Completely wrong. I'm reprimanding her for going too far, and now I'm going too far myself.

"I'm glad I was born the way I am," she says coldly, "I am grateful for this green skin if only because it keeps me from being like you. It must be nice to have the privilege of never having to question or fight for anything."

"Elphie," I say, more gently, "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to look out for you. You don't do yourself any services by setting fire to your bridges. You want to work for the Wizard. Well, Oz needs people they can look up and relate to, not people that frighten them." I reach out to touch her face. She moves out of my reach.

"I want to go to bed," she says flatly. I offer my hand to help her out of her chair. "I can handle it myself, Galinda, I'm not an invalid."

"You took care of me this morning," I say softly, "I just want to return the favor."

"You've taken care of me enough," she says. "More than enough. Maybe you need to stop thinking about me and think about yourself. Your ambitions, your morals, your hairdo, whatever. It's your choice, really, my sweet."

I step back, allowing her to get up and change. She walks over to her bed. Not my bed, her own. It feels like a slap in the face. But what was I expecting?

I am perfectly capable of standing up for something, as my fight with Shenshen should prove. But the fact is, I stood up to Shenshen for Elphie, not for some higher cause. I did it for my friend. It was not for Dr. Dillamond. Not for the Lion cub. Not for the Animals throughout Oz who are slowly losing their voices. Would I have risked as much for any of them? Would I have risked anything? Probably not. Risks are not my forte. I'm not that girl; Elphie is. And just as I am ashamed of her for making a scene, she has every right to be ashamed of me for clinging to security.

Even now I am running to security; I am running to comfort that my roommate is obviously not going to provide me now that I've blasted her for her actions. A chill still lingers in the air from the rain, so I grab a sweater to toss over my sundress. I pause in front of the mirror to apply just the lightest hint of makeup.

"You're going out now?" Elphie asks in disbelief. "You're supposed to rest too, you know. You were the one making a big production over your menses this morning, after all."

"And you were supposed to eat," I say flatly. "So I am not the only one disobeying our dear headmistress. I need to find Fiyero. I haven't seen him all day and I need to make sure he's all right. Make sure… he got your cub out safely," I add for her benefit.

"Suit yourself," Elphie mutters. "Just be quiet coming back in. And no theatrics tomorrow morning, or I will set fire to all your shoes."

I look at her tense form curled beneath the covers and wonder how it's possible to love and despise someone so much at the same time. But more than I despise her, I despise myself. I despise whoever made the proclamation that Animals can no longer teach. I despise the Animals. I despise Dillamond. I despise everything that contributed to change things from the way they were, because the way they were was perfect.

* * *

I have never seen Fiyero quite like he is tonight. I had him summoned out of Briscoe Hall by the doorman; now he paces back and forth in front of the building, eyes darting every which way. There is no kiss hello, no, "it's nice to see you, Galinda." My boyfriend doesn't ask me where I was during class this afternoon. He doesn't ask how I am. Of course, I'd have no reason to be anything other than fine. Fine, fine, fine, because I obviously don't think or care about anything but myself!

"I let the cub go in the woods," he says. "Do you think that was the right thing to do? I mean, a Lion can survive on its own in the woods, right?"

"I think so…" I say, but I have no idea.

"The thing is, he's just a cub. Just a baby. Too young to be without his parents. He ought to have parents somewhere, right? They must be terribly worried about their child." He is talking a mile a minute, fidgeting, twitching. I reach out for his arm and forcibly stop him in his tracks. I nuzzle up against his shoulder, but he's tense. He doesn't put his arms around me. I need him to so badly right now.

"I'm such an idiot, Galinda!" Fiyero says. "What if his parents came to Shiz to search for him? How could I look them in the eye and tell them that I set their child loose like the common squirrel that got stuck in my family's attic?"

"Fiyero, it does no good to think of such things that are beyond one's control," I say. "You did the best you could. The important thing is that nobody saw you and you're not in trouble."

"I don't care about that, rules have never stopped me! I've gotten into trouble plenty of times before! I could have kept the cub in my dorm room for a while and snuck him food from the cafeteria or something. In the meantime, I could have asked around, tried to find his parents... How do you think the school got him away from his parents anyway? Was it a cub-napping? Do you think his parents are in prison somewhere? Do you think they're even alive?"

"Fiyero, I don't know…" I say helplessly.

"I could have taken him into town. Given him to some Animals. They would have known what to do. But there are barely any Animals in the town. Is that normal? Was it always like that? You know, I think that Elphaba is onto something… There are less Animals in the Vinkus now than there used to be. Somebody is trying to silence them."

"And what can we do about that?" I sigh.

" I should go into town and look for an Animal, maybe they can find the cub. No, I should go back to the woods! I should find him myself!"

"Fiyero, it's after dark. It's chilly… You shouldn't go back to the woods. You did what you could, now matters are out of your hands."

* * *

It's amazing how much can change over the course of a day. This morning, I could barely get out of bed. Now I'm standing in the forest beside Fiyero, holding a lantern in one hand and a leg of fried chicken in the other. I feel beyond ridiculous. Fiyero alternates between calling out for the Lion and berating himself for his lack of sense. If I knew I was going to be out here, I would have borrowed my roommate's boots. I may be wearing flat shoes, after all, but they are open-toed, and I'm afraid that any second I'll feel something slither across my toes.

A sudden flutter of wings near my head causes me to scream. I drop the lantern on the ground before me and the lantern goes out. "Fiyero," I say, hands shaking, "I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. If the cub is here, he's not coming out. Let's go back."

My boyfriend sighs sadly and kneels, setting his chicken leg down in a pile of leaves. I do the same with mine. We start making our way back to campus. Once we get into the clearing, Fiyero falls to his knees in the grass. He looks like he wants to cry but he doesn't. I stop and kneel down beside him.

"Galinda," Fiyero says, lifting my chin so that our eyes meet for the first time all night, "please don't tell Elphaba about what happened, even if she asks. I know that's asking a lot of you, because you are so close. Just tell her the cub is safe. I don't want her to know how stupid I am. She'll hate me, for sure…"

"I won't," I assure him, and I mean it. Why should I tell her anything right now? More importantly, why should she listen to anything I say?

* * *

It has been a rough week. Well, that's a bit of an understatement.

The student body of Shiz, for the most part, believe that the unfortunate magical incident in history class was caused, in fact, by the Lion cub and not by my roommate. If they even bothered to look at a Sorcery textbook, they'd no doubt know that Animals are not recognized for wielding magical ability. But as Elphie has said herself, people will believe the most ridiculous tripe, and Madame Morrible has counted on that fact to save her protégé's face. Of course, Elphie could not be more angry about the rumor the headmistress has started, even if it is for her own good. Because to the other students, it's all more proof that Animals are dangerous to Ozian society and cannot be trusted.

She's beginning to think Morrible can't be trusted. I could have told her that long ago.

True to her word, Morrible is working her very hard in Sorcery lessons, which I have been temporarily barred from attending. I have no idea what happens within the walls of the gymnasium. But I meet Elphie after lessons every day to walk her back to our room because she is always beyond the point of exhaustion afterwards. She generally spends the remainder of the day in bed with her books, trying desperately to keep up with the coursework for the other classes she's missing.

At least, she is eating. And she seems to be sleeping well, if only from the extension of her fatigue. But she is sleeping alone and I haven't had the heart to even ask her to do otherwise. There have been no late-night talks, no hair-brushing or toenail painting or friendly backrubs as of late. There is almost more distance between us now than when we still hated and tormented each other; it is unsettling. The six feet of space between our beds is beginning to feel like an ocean.

I cannot count on Fiyero for the affection I'm decidedly lacking. He is nervous, flighty, and absolutely obsessed with the fate of the Lion cub. Every day, after classes, he goes to the woods. He sits and stares into the trees for hours, leaving some sort of meat behind when he finally returns. It's always gone the next day, but what's actually eating it is anyone's guess. I cannot, will not, go with him again.

He has been quite determined to avoid Elphie, not that it's very hard with her new regiment of isolation. But he's terrified by the prospect of running into her and having to tell her what he did with the cub.

My social life has fared better than I thought it might after my explosion at Shenshen. She still hasn't forgiven me; I haven't asked her to. I'm not sure that I want her to. Oddly enough, Pfannee and Milla seem to have no gripes with me over the incident. They also believe that "animal magic" is to blame. Pfannee's not even particularly bothered about what happened to her; it's gotten her plenty of attention and she's played it to the extreme, pretending to be traumatized whenever it suits her. But the lingering tension between Shenshen and I makes it impossible to spend time with any of that group.

I feel very alone. I've actually started eating lunches with the Munchkin - whose name is actually Boq, who'd have thought? - because, at least he'll talk to me. He'll talk to me a lot, mostly about how dreadful Nessarose is and how he wishes he were with someone more, well, like me. I want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him he doesn't even know who I am. If he did, his obsession would surely wane. Because I am selfish. I am a coward and I am being punished for it by everyone that I love.

* * *

I slip out of Crage hall at quarter-past eleven. I am wearing a rain cloak but it's not raining. The hood is pulled up tightly around my hair. I mount the stairs of Briscoe Hall and stroll boldly to where the doorman stands. I don't recognize him; he's new. Maybe that will make this easier.

"Miss?" he says uncertainly, looking me over.

I silently take his hand and press several heavy gold coins into his palm. He nods at me in understanding.

Isn't it the boy who is supposed to be doing this? I need to be bold now. I need to speak to my Warrior of Vinkus in a language that he understands, about something other than Animals. I need to speak to him about me; I need to speak to him about us.

"Tiggular?" I ask.

"Room 419," he answers, after consulting a stack of papers at the front desk.

I have never been to Fiyero's room, but it makes sense that he would have one of the larger, top floor rooms like I do. He is a prince, after all. And unlike my own, his room is private. I gulp down the lump in my throat. The hallway of the fourth floor is empty. I rap on the heavy wooden door with my knuckles. No answer, so I knock harder.

"Coming," groans a sleepy voice, after what seems like forever. My boyfriend answers the door, quite shirtless, in baggy pajama pants. His hair is mussed and his face is groggy.

"Galinda?" he asks, his eyes going wide. "Is something wrong? Is it Elphaba?"

It's strange that his first thought would be that something was wrong with Elphie. But what _isn't _wrong with Elphie anymore?

"Nothing is wrong," I say, "may I come in?" He nods, I enter, and he shuts the door behind me.

"What brings you here at this hour?" he asks.

I unclasp my rain cloak and let it fall to the floor.

It is a vision I have worked very hard on. My face is made up to the nines. Fine crystal earrings dangle from my ears. My hair is slicked to the back of my neck, where it suddenly erupts in a flurry of wide curls. I am wearing a sheer, white lace camisole with pink piping and embroidered roses down the sides. The bust laces with a pink ribbon. The delicately-ruffled hem barely reaches my hips.

I am wearing nothing underneath. The curves of my body are entirely visible beneath the gossamer fabric. There should be no doubt left in my Prince's mind as to why I came here. None whatsoever.

He looks at me, totally speechless. I take his wrist and lead him to his bed, pushing his hips down to the mattress. I climb into his lap, raining kisses across his jaw. He rests his hands on the small of my back and I dig my nails into his shoulders, running my fingers up the back of his neck and through his dark hair. His hands move slowly outward, over my hips and up my sides to my breasts, groping through the thin lace. I push him back a little farther, so that his shoulders are resting on a pile of pillows. Sweet Oz, this room is so dirty!

There are clothes strewn everywhere, schoolbooks scattered, a plate with the remains of what must have been Fiyero's dinner. I've never been in a boy's dorm room before, but I expected better than this. Really! My camisole is lifted over my head and tossed to the floor with the other clothes. Fiyero is pulling me down on top of him so that our chests are pressing together. He wants me to kiss him. I kiss him. What do I want? I want to be loved. I want to be known. I want to be seen.

I want Fiyero to see me. I want Elphie to see me. I feel forgotten; I feel cast aside. I can't help it if I care more about the two of them then I care about the Animals. That doesn't mean that I don't care; that I don't think; that I'm just a pretty face. I want to be more than just a pretty face.

And as for what is happening right now, I want it done and over with as quickly as possible.

Fiyero moves me aside so that he can take off his pajama pants. He wants me to lay back. I won't lay back. I need to be on top of him. I need to be in control of this. I need to be in control of him. I need to be in control of something.

I bite my lip and I lower myself. He rises up to meet me. And it's manly daggers and delicate flowers and everything that Warrior of Vinkus ever promised. Except it's not Warrior of Vinkus. We're not Throg and Galena. We are Galinda and Fiyero. It's uncomfortable, yes, but not painful like I was expecting. I move my hips against him, ignoring my discomfort. He gasps, so I move them faster and harder, grabbing his face in my hands. His eyes are closed. "Look at me, Fiyero," I whisper. "Look at me."

And he opens his eyes but he looks at everything else in the room, everything but me. Is he realizing for the first time what complete squalor he's living in? This is not the time. "Look at me," I all-but-shout, "look at me!"

Finally, he does. His blue eyes meet mine, our bodies are still joined and for a moment I feel like everything is back the way it was. I feel like everything is okay. I feel like this is worth it.

I intend to spend the night in Fiyero's dorm and cuddle together, as is proper after losing one's virginity. He gives me one of his old shirts to sleep in.

It should be nice to be sharing a bed with someone again. But his body lacks the soft places to snuggle up against which I have become familiar with on my roommate. We don't fit together as comfortably; he doesn't hold me as carefully or stroke my hair or call me his sweet. I haven't heard that particular term of endearment in over a week. Within minutes Fiyero is snoring and I am missing Elphie horribly. I wonder if she'll say anything when I don't come home tonight. I wonder if she'll even notice, or if she'll care. I turn away from Fiyero and sniffle into the blanket.

After several sleepless hours, I creep out of Fiyero's bed, gather my lingerie and put my cloak back on. Without waking my boyfriend, I slip out of the room, across the dark empty campus and back to Crage Hall, where at least I can hear the sound of her breath, even if I am no longer permitted to feel it against my cheek.

The next day, a messenger arrives with a green envelope addressed to Miss Elphaba Thropp. She is going to meet the Wizard, and I am stuck here, falling to pieces.

* * *

_**Next up:** What happens in the Emerald City… stays in the Emerald City. What happens in the Emerald City? Wouldn't you like to know?_


	7. Seeing Green

**Chapter Seven: Seeing Green**

The Shiz Train Station is a flurry of chaos and motion but I feel frozen to the platform, both hands clasped tight to the handle of my purse as if it is the only thing that is holding me together. I really should invest in waterproof mascara. It would make my life a lot easier.

"I'm so, so proud of you," I say to my roommate, blinking back a tear. I shouldn't be so emotionary! She's only going to be gone for two nights. She'll only spend a day in the Emerald City. But that day will forever change the course of her life; I can feel it. I am terrified. I have been terrified since our argument on the day that Dr. Dillamond was fired, terrified that I am losing her.

She smiles and places a green hand softly over my own. My hand quickly releases the purse strap and wraps around hers, squeezing just a bit too tightly. I want to say I'm sorry for how strained things have been between us, but if I do, I will break down completely. I can't even look her in the eye or I'll dissolve in a puddle of tears.

Nessarose arrives with the Munchkin in tow and I suppose I should be happy that, for once, she is showing her sister some support. But the timing is not right. I need my moment with Elphie and Nessa is intruding. Elphie turns to face the two of them and yelps when her arm twists because I still have hold of her hand. I'm not letting it go. I won't let her go until the last possible moment.

"Nessa, Biq," I say, trying to force a smile as Elphie rubs at the inside of her elbow.

"It's Boq!" the Munchkin practically explodes. "And I can't do this anymore!" he shouts at Nessa. Why he's shouting at her, I don't understand. I'm the one who mispronounced his name yet again. I feel so bad; I just can't seem to wrap my brain around it. No matter how many times he tells me, I keep slipping up and calling him Biq. I suddenly feel a strange sense of sympathy for Dr. Dillamond. I feel bad for raking him over the coals for his inability to get my name right.

Now, Boq is storming off and Nessa is wheeling after him. So much for sisterly support… Elphie moves to follow them both, but my grip remains firm on her fingers, tugging her back to me.

"She'll have to manage without you," I tell her. "We all will." She frowns.

"Don't be silly, my sweet. You still have your Warrior of Vinkus," she says, but I have realized that life is not a romance novel and my boyfriend is just as flawed as anyone. I want to tell her this; I want to tell her everything. I wish I had the time. But she has to meet the Wizard, which is far more important than hearing about how I mistakenly thought that giving myself to Fiyero was going to fix everything that was wrong in my life.

"He's been so distant and moodified lately," is what I say instead. And I mean to say that he's been thinking about the Lion cub, but I promised I wouldn't tell her where he released it, so "he's been thinking" is all that comes out. For some reason, Elphie finds that funny. She really does think he's an idiot. Well, maybe she's right…

And speak of the loveable idiot, he is running toward us with a bouquet of poppies. After nearly two weeks of avoiding Elphie, he has brought her flowers. "I've been thinking-" he announces.

"Yes, I heard," she says, cutting him off. I jam my elbow into her ribs.

"-about that day with the Lion cub. I think about it a lot." Oh Fiyero, please no confessions! Not now. We haven't the time. You want to unburdenate your conscience, but I haven't even said a proper goodbye to my roommate… to my best friend!

"I think about it too," Elphie says uncertainly.

"I think about it too," I blurt out before I can stop myself. Both my roommate and my boyfriend stop to look at me as if I've sprouted wings. Do they both really think me that self-absorbed and unaffected? Do they think I don't belong in their little club of people who think about things? Well, I'll show them!

"In fact," I say, "I've been thinking of changing my name." Oh, yes! It's brilliant! Thank you, Biq, for the moment of divine inspiration.

"Your name?" Fiyero asks.

"Yes," I say. "Since Dr. Dillamond had such a unique way of pronouncing it, I will henceforth be known not as Galinda but simply Glinda. Think of it as an expression of my solidarity and outrage."

Okay, now that I've said it out loud, maybe it's not so brilliant. Actually, it's stupid. It won't accomplish anything! Fiyero still looks baffled, but Elphie's expression is searching. "Glinda," she says softly, trying it out on her tongue.

Fiyero leaves as quickly and nervously as he came. The cold way he says "Glinda" when he bids us goodbye leaves me thoroughly unhinged.

Well, it's not like I told _everyone _that my name is Glinda now. I can still take it back! We can pretend this conversation never happened. But we can't pretend that nothing is different. We can't turn back the clock, and Galinda is breaking apart like a shell. I am breaking apart; I am breaking down. Ozdamnit, my makeup is running. Elphie pulls me into her arms and I sob into her shoulder. It feels so good to be held by her again. I want to be Glinda for her, whoever Glinda is.

"Come with me," Elphie says, and when I realize what she's asking, I sob even harder.

And so, I am off to the Emerald City with absolutely no luggage and nothing to wear for our audience with the Wizard. This will necessitate some shopping! It will be too late for shopping when we arrive tonight. But the Wizard is putting us up in The Emerald Marquise, the city's swankiest hotel, so I suppose I can make do without my things for a little longer.

* * *

Tears have given way to excitement. I have touched up my makeup and paid my fares to the conductor. Our train starts moving along the track and I lean against my friend's shoulder.

"Elphie, I missed you," I say.

"I missed you too," she responds. I take her hand and make little circles on her open palm with my fingertips. I sit up to look at her and she turns toward me. Our eyes meet.

"I'm sorry," she says, stealing the very words that were on the tip of my tongue.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," I say.

"For what? Speaking your mind, when it was obvious that you only wanted the best for me?"

"I was unduly cruel," I answer.

"Bringing me soup and offering to tuck me into bed is cruel? Or the fact that you've met me every day after sorcery lessons to escort me back to the room? You have acted with unwavering loyalty, despite our disagreement. Even though I've done nothing but push you away since. We had - still have - a difference in the way we approach things, but it's not like you don't care about the injustices of this world. You proved that back in the station… Glinda," she smiles. "It has a nice ring. Less syllables. Now if only we could whittle down the syllables in the rest of your speech…"

"Admit it, you envy the creative librarities I take with my language!"

"I have to admit that you have been taking less of them as of late," she says. Then she grins, almost arrogantly. "I am really wearing off on you."

"You give yourself too much credit," I tease.

"And I give you far too little. You were right about that. Not only for your loyalty but your bravery and intelligence."

"Oh, Elphie, stop, I'm not brave or intelligent. That's you," I say. In fact, any miniscule amount of bravery or intelligence I might exhibit _has _worn off from her.

"You might try to hide it, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. I see you under all that makeup." She grins. I think I'm blushing. I put my head back on her shoulder and play with her fingers.

"Glinda, my sweet," she whispers after a few moments, "You know I adore you, but might want to stop that. People are looking at us."

Sure enough, the older couple in the seats across the aisle are staring at us with open-mouthed horror. I'm sure it's in response to her color, but the fact that I'm being so affectionate with her can't be helping matters. Since when does Elphie care what anyone thinks though? And when did I stop caring? I flash a toothy smile in the direction of the couple and snuggle closer to her, running my fingers over her wrist and sliding up her sleeve to gain access to her forearm. I rub at the crook of her elbow, which was unfortunately twisted by one overenthusiary blonde roommate.

The woman turns and whispers something to her husband. Elphie shifts uncomfortably under their gaze.

"Come on," I giggle, "let's give them a show. Give me a kiss." I say. I reach up and cup her chin, trying to turn her face toward mine.

"I will do no such thing!" she says, turning her head in the opposite direction. That doesn't stop me from planting several quick, fluttery kisses on her cheek. I press the last one to the spot where the back of her jaw meets her neck, just below her ear. Our spectators get up and move to another seat. I feel victorious.

"Glinda, stop that!" Elphie whispers. "What's gotten into you?" I giggle.

"I don't know how Fiyero puts up with these horribly public displays of affection," she says.

"He happens to like when I kiss him here," I say, lightly touching the spot beneath her ear. She swats my hand. Then she turns to face me with her piercing dark eyes.

"Am I supposed to like it?" she asks. And she looks completely serious. Instead of answering, I throw my arms around her and hug her tightly.

"What's gotten into me," I say, "is that I'm going to the Emerald City and I am going to meet the Wizard with the best friend I've ever had, who I am no longer fighting with and should have never fought with to begin with but that doesn't matter now because you forgive me… Oh Elphie, I love you so much!" I squeeze tighter. She gasps for air.

Awkward conversation avoided. For now.

* * *

The Wizard has arranged for a carriage to meet us at the train station and take us to the Marquise. It is early in the evening, but there's still enough sunlight for us to take in the full opulecesence of the Emerald City. I have never seen buildings so tall or streets so clean: in fact, the very pavement sparkles. Our driver kindly explains that it is because of crushed glass mixed in with the concrete.

There is green everywhere: green brick storefronts, green tile walkways, towers of green jewel-toned glass. But the green is peppered with other colors: crystalline fountains, white marble statues, planters brimming with pink and yellow flowers on every cast iron streetlamp. And the fashions! The streets are aflutter with dresses and hats and handbags like nothing I have ever seen before. The designs make the styles of Frottica and the Gillikin Uplands look charmingly old-fashioned by comparison.

"There are no Animals here," Elphie says. "I haven't seen a single one."

"Very observant," says our driver. "There used to be more of them working in the hotels, the playhouses and mansions. Over the last decade, human servants have become much more fashionable, as they are more expensive to employ. Show of wealth, and all that. The Animals have moved East to make their living in farming, or South to the mines."

"The subtle and systematic workings of oppression," Elphie whispers to me. She may call me intelligent, but her observations make me feel stupid. Because the city is unfolding around us like some sort of theatrical production; I am caught up in the lights and the spectacle, while she is looking for the gears and levers which control everything.

I can't dwell on my intellectual shortcomings for too long, however, because our carriage has reached the Marquise. And there isn't another building in the city like it. I expected it to be shaped, perhaps, like a marquise-cut gemstone, but the reality is even more spectacular. In what seems like an architectural impossibility, the building stands on a curve, like some sort of long sideways arch.

I am frozen in my seat, just staring at the hotel when Elphie claps me hard on the back. "Glinda, has your heart stopped? Must I resuscitate you?" she asks. But her own eyes have been as wide as saucers since we entered the city, and the brief discussion of Animals has been the only time that the smile has left her face. She is just as affected by the modernness and grandeur of it.

Our hotel suite is on the top floor of the impossibly-arched building. And just like everything else in the city, it is decked out in green. As opposed to the brilliant hues boasted in the streets, the color is more subdued. Shades of mint and seafoam abound. The moldings and furnishings are made from dark cherry-stained wood which pairs beautifully. The walls are crisp and white, lined with mirrored tiles a few feet from the ceiling.

There is a gigantic window that gives a beautiful view of the twinkling skyline against the sunset through gauzy honeydew curtains. There is a cubic glass table sitting in front of the window where a meal can be savored in tandem with the view. There is even an empty vase that I can put Fiyero's poppies in.

"Oh Elphie, it's so pretty!" I sigh.

"It's so… pastel," she groans in response. "It hurts my eyes."

"Your sense of style is truly hopeless," I chide.

I slip off my heels and take a flying leap into the soft, downy covers of the gigantic four-poster bed, sprawling out lengthwisely across it. My entire body doesn't reach from one end to the other. I kick my feet in the air and giggle. "Let's pretend this is our suite," I say, looking at my friend. "We are the Wizard's magical assistants and this is where we live."

"If this is our suite, we are going to redecorate with some pleasant neutrals. Really, I am all the green this room needs," she says.

"Your idea of pleasant neutrals would be blue, brown and gray all in the same unsightly scheme," I frown.

A teasing smile is her only response. She takes off her boots, pulls her glasses out of her satchel and settles down on the bed beside me with a book: a history of the Wizard's reign. Research for tomorrow, perhaps.

How one can read in a place like this is beyond me. I plan to relax! I will have dinner sent up for the two of us in a bit. Then I will soak myself in a tub full of bubbles for at least an hour. It's been forever since I've had a private bathroom and I am going to live it up! For now, though, I guess I will be useful and unpack. Though I have absolutely none of my things here. So, I will unpack Elphie's things instead.

Imagine my surprise, when the first thing I find when I reach into her travel bag is the hat. _The_ hat that I gave her as part of that horrendific prank on the night at the Ozdust. "Elphaba!" I practically shout at her, "What were you thinking?"

She sets the book down and smiles broadly. "I thought that when I met the Wizard, I would wear it, in honor of my best friend who so kindly bestowed it upon me."

How embarrassing! How truly wicked!

"You're wearing this to meet the Wizard over my dead, stiff, decaying, moldy body!" I say, utilizing every unpleasant adjective in my vocabulary. "I'm going to throw this out the window, to the street, where it can be swept up with the refuse or carried off by a crow!"

"You'll do no such thing," Elphie says, leaning forward on the mattress. Does she really mean to take it back from me? And by what means? I sprint toward the window and she springs after me. "Give it back, Glinda! It has sentimental value!"

"Don't be silly," I say, "I will buy you a new hat if you want, but this one needs to be put out of its hidareous misery…" I run my fingers around the edges of the window, looking for a latch, but apparently there is none. A safety measure, I suppose.

Elphie grabs for the hat, but I clutch it to my chest, ducking away from her. I circle back through the room and jump up on the bed, holding it out of her reach. Perhaps, with the realization that I can't rid us of the fashion aberration so easily, Elphie's expression changes from a grimace to a playful smirk. My Elphie, playful? Can it really be?

I feel the mattress shift as she jumps up beside me, but I am not about to give up now. I hook my foot around her calf, just below her knee. Her leg folds up under her and she goes down. The only problem is that she's falling on top of me, bringing me down to the mattress with her. My legs are quite pinned beneath the green girl's body. I cast the hat away to the other side of the room and try to sit up, reaching for Elphie's arms so that she can't go after it. But it seems that she has other plans when she starts tickling me. Yes, she is being playful. Oz help us all!

"How do you like it, my sweet?" she grins. "Not so fun when you're on the receiving end, is it?" I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but I give in as her fingers trail down my sides. "You squeak so pleasantly, Glinda. Just like a little mouse."

"Elphieeeeeehehehehe, please stop!" I plead with her, trying to pry her hands from me.

"I'll stop," she says as I thrash and flail beneath her, "if you say you'll let me wear the hat." She flashes her teeth.

"You may wear the fish!" I blurt out.

"Not the fish, Glinda," she says calmly as she continues her assault. "Though thank you for giving me permission. Perhaps I will wear anchovies as earrings, knowing how you love them…"

"You… may… wear… the…" I say between peals of laughter, but I am stalling. I have managed to free my right foot, and I jab my big toe into the nook above her hipbone, wiggling it against her for all I'm worth. She squeaks and rolls off of me. I roll right along with her, so that I am the one on top, straddling her waist. But she is quick and she catches my hands before I can exact my revenge.

She's not letting go, and it seems we're at a bit of a stalemate. "I'm wearing the hat," she says, looking up at me with a defiant smile.

"Elphie, what has gotten into you?" I ask. Her hair is tussled and strewn about her like a halo of black. Her dark eyes are twinkling. She's beautiful, radiant even, and at this moment I couldn't deny her anything in Oz. Even if it's a stupid hat.

"What's gotten into me," she says, raising the pitch of her voice as if she means to mock me, "is that I'm in the Emerald City and I'm going to meet the Wizard with my best friend ever." And then she does something that catches me off guard: she lets go of my hands and hugs me tight, pulling me down on top of her. Well, this position is awkward. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I move away as soon as she lets me go, afraid of what she might see in my face.

"Make a fool of yourself, for all I care," I say, trying to look very stern, but failing. "The Emerald City is on the cutting edge of fashion, anyway. People might think pointy hats are the next big thing. But we have to shop tomorrow! You need a dress that will offset the absurdity of your headgear, and I need a dress, period…and we really need to get you one of those, ehm, supportive garments I've been threatening you with."

"I hardly think that I need to be calling attention to my breasts for a meeting with his Ozness…" she laughs.

"But you are sure to be a little bit nervous, and well, how do I say this? Nerves cause much the same reaction as being cold. Things can get a little perky and that would call attention far more than a proper bra would."

"I'm sure my skin will call more attention than anything else. Always does."

"Nonsense. You fit right in here." I pluck the glasses from her nose, glad that they weren't broken in our scuffle. "Now come here, you silly girl," I say, "put your head in my lap so I can play with your hair."

Elphie complies without question as I prop my back against the headboard. Gently, I twine the raven strands around my fingers. She trusts me so wholly and completely, even as I am having a hard time tearing my thoughts from my excessive concern over the state of her nipples.

"I have missed this," she says.

* * *

We go to bed early: me in nothing but my underclothes, because Elphie only packed one nightdress. She tried to insist that I wear it, but I wasn't going to let her sleep in her clothing. Or sleep without it, for that matter, because I am feeling strangely mistrustful of myself. I don't cuddle up against my friend because, I suppose, it would be improper in this state of undress. Instead, my fingers find hers beneath the covers and gently lace between them.

We go to bed early, but we can't sleep, because we're in the Emerald City and there is so much that we want to see and do. We talk about it as we lay on our backs, staring at the thin line of streetlight that makes its way in from the gap between the curtains on the ceiling above us. Eventually the conversation stops and I slip into my thoughts. But I don't sleep.

"Elphie," I turn on my side to face her and make the same suggestion that I did on our first night as friends. "Why don't we tell each other something that we've never told anyone else before?"

"I'm afraid I already told you my only secret the last time we played this game. I'm not that fascinating."

"You are fascinating, and I'm sure you can think of something," I say, propping my head up on my elbow. "I'm waiting." She rubs her temples.

"Well," she finally says, "of course, when we go to see the Wizard tomorrow, I will appeal to him on behalf of the Animals…"

"I already know that," I tell her.

"You didn't let me finish," she says. "The Animals are my first concern, obviously. But I have ulterior motives. There is something that I want from the Wizard too."

"You want to be recognized for your talents, your powers, your mind. Not for your skin," I say.

"Actually, I want to ask him to fix my skin," she says, still staring at the ceiling. "Not right away, mind you. I need to prove myself first; I need to earn his trust. But someday, I will ask him for the thing I've always wanted more than anything: my most selfish desire."

"Elphie, it's not selfish, but... you don't need to be fixed," I say, inching closer to her. The thought of anything other than a green Elphie makes me unbelievably sad. "I've already fixed you. You're perfect now." I squeeze her shoulder and she turns her face to rest her cheek on my hand.

"Says the girl who used to be afraid that the green was contagious," she says. As she speaks, I can feel her lips move against my knuckles.

"The green never bothered me," I lie. "It was the surliness. And the awful clothes."

I can still make out her smile in the dark. "And the green," she quips.

"Okay, well, I got used to it! And anyone who can't get used to it doesn't deserve to know you."

"But my life would be easier," she says, and I can't argue with that. I frown. "You got used to the way that I am and you could do it again. Especially with all the new colors you'd be able to dress me in. I won't clash with everything anymore, Glinda. Just think of the possibilities!" She's trying to make me feel better, and it's sweet, but…

"Still," I say, rather possessively, brushing her cheek with my fingers, "I like you better this way. Because I get you all to myself. You are my secret. Those shallow bastards don't know what they're missing."

She laughs. "Speaking of secrets, it's your turn. Tell me a secret, and make it a good one this time. None of this 'I am going to marry Fiyero' nonsense."

"I gave myself to him," I say and she goes silent. I have her full attention. She turns to face me and places a hand on my hip in a gesture that seems strangely protective.

"Was he gentle with you, my sweet?" she asks me, voice full of tenderness. "Because of not, I will turn him into something truly unpleasant!" My heart flutters a tiny bit. She is too good to me.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. If anything, I was the one who was rough. I'm the one who seduced him, because I was tired of being ignored. I told you, he's been distant… The whole time I felt like I was acting and he was my audience. I fought to keep his attention on me. I only had it for as long as he lasted. Afterward, he went right back to being distant again. Oh, Elphie, I miss the way that things used to be. They've gotten so much more complicated. I'm afraid. I'm afraid he's going to stop loving me… that I'll lose him. Just like I almost lost you!"

I sniffle and she scoots up to me, embracing me fully. "My sweet, that's nonsense. I don't think anyone with a beating heart could _not _love you, and not do everything within their power to keep you… always."

She pulls back. I feel her fingers under my chin, lifting it up, and then her lips are on mine. Oh Oz, she's kissing me! It is a genuine kiss: a kiss with no pretenses about practicing for boys or frightening the elderly. And I am allowing it; no, I'm welcoming it with every fiber of my being. My heart is beating so fast. It is ready to leap out of my chest and thrash about the bed like a fish out of water.

She might have no experience, but she's gentle… so gentle and careful. I part my lips just a tiny bit and flick my tongue against her mouth. I feel her inhale and I do it again, then catch her lower lip between my own. I suck it gently while lightly grazing it with my teeth. She shivers against me. I feel her tongue run along my upper lip and I let her deepen the kiss. I run my fingertips down the back of her neck as our tongues meet. Her hand settles back on my hip for a moment then moves to my lower back, where she traces delicate patterns on the bare skin.

Then she pulls away. Her voice is frantic and frightened. "Glinda, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me…"

"Oh no you don't," I stop her. "Don't apologize. Don't talk." I press my hand firmly between her shoulders, guiding her shaking body back to mine, capturing her mouth in my own again, this time more fiercely. She gasps. Her fingers travel up my spine and tangle in my hair. After a few moments, she is keeping pace with me. Really, not bad for her first time. Well, technically now, second time. I may have had better, but I've never had sweeter, and every part of me is here in this moment.

She kisses with a surprising tenderness, as if I am so delicate I will break under any force. I kiss her again and again.

There are consequentials to every action, and there will damned well be consequentials to this. You can't share something so deep, so intimate with someone and pretend it never happened. We won't be here in this dark hotel or this magical city forever. We will go back to Shiz, where my boyfriend is waiting for me. We will return to a world that has certain expectations. But I don't want to think about that right now. Right now, I want nothing but this Emerald City and this emerald girl in my arms. What would it be like to make love to her? I felt strangely numb and dissatisfied with Fiyero inside me. But to have _her_, back arched and panting, at the mercy of my fingers… that would be all the satisfaction I'd need.

I pull away from her lips for a moment, nosing her chin upward so that I can kiss underneath it. I put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her so that she's laying on her back again, and I am halfway on top of her. I move my lips back to the place where I kissed her on the train. She wiggles a little bit beneath me.

"I'm not tickling you, am I?" I whisper against her ear. "I promise I'm not trying, even though it wouldn't be uncalled for."

"You aren't exactly…" she answers, nervously.

"You like this, don't you?" I ask. She doesn't answer.

"Elphie…" I nibble her earlobe. Her legs are twitching. How adorable. "Say you like it," I warn her, "or I'll stop."

"I thought talking was forbidden," she says breathlessly.

"Not this kind of talking. Someone once told me, anyway, that you need to be straightforward about what you want and need…" I press my index finger to the tip of her nose.

"I was referring to you, my sweet, not to someone like me, who has no right to want or need-"

I cut her off with a kiss. "That is exactly the sort of talking I've forbiddified," I say. "Now let's try this again. Elphaba," I purr, low against her ear, "do you like it when I kiss you here?"

"Yes," she says, barely audible.

"Good girl," I say. I move my lips across her throat and nibble her collarbone. She holds onto me like she's scared I'll disappear. I slide my hand to her breast, and small as it may be, it's surprisingly firm_._ "You're beautiful," I gush, "so perfect. And I am going to make you feel that way..."

Make love to her I shall. Even if I don't know the first thing about how to do so. I will fumble until I find all the ways to make her whimper with pleasure. I will show her her worth.

"Glinda, please," she takes my hand in her own, moving it away from her body. She starts to sit up. I push her back down. "Listen to me," she says, her voice growing stern. "I am putting a stop to this."

"Why, Elphie?" I whine.

"You are excited about being here, but you're also upset about Fiyero and about our fight. You're in a heightened emotional state right now, and you're very vulnerable. I cannot be party to something that you are possibly going to regret. I've let it go too far already." And my heart sinks because she's right; she's always right. I am in no way ready for this. My body may be but my mind, my heart… Right now I don't care. I want what I want.

"I just want to make you happy," I whimper, aware that I've already lost the battle.

"And you do, my sweet. Trust me, you do. Right now, nothing would make me happier than if you'd just let me hold you for a while," she says. Defeated, I snuggle up in her arms.

"Good girl," she says, and kisses my forehead. She rubs my shoulders and plays with my hair in a way which soothes my desire, rather than igniting it further. She continues this gentle contact until I am fast asleep. My heart that has been flopping so wildly about has been set back in my chest for safekeeping. But something tells me that I may give it to her yet.

* * *

_**Next up:** We're off to see the Wizard! And you're all going to hate me…_


	8. Defying Nothing

_**AN: **__You may have noticed that every chapter of this story has been uploaded again. I made some revisions in order to a) fix some typos, b) try to tone down the Galinda-speak in places where it interrupts the flow of the story. Worry not; there are no drastic plot changes and no reason to go back and reread if you've already come this far._

**Chapter Eight: Defying Nothing**

The gauzy mint curtains of our suite at the Emerald Marquise do little to keep out the morning sun. In fact, they seem aflame with it, glowing with the promise of the city that beckons outside the window: a city that is waiting just for us, with its restaurants and boutiques and theatres, glitzy sidewalks and stupendiary structures. There are sights to be seen, dresses to be bought, and Wizards to be met!

The sunlight is a bit much for my sleepy eyes, however, so I roll over toward the darker side of the room, hoping to catch a few more minutes of sleep. And I am staring straight at Elphie, who is propped up on her elbows in bed staring back at me. She looks startled when our eyes meet and quickly turns away, her expression almost guilty. She sits up in bed, arms wrapped awkwardly around herself, eyes averted from my face. As my eyes roam down the slope of her nose and the darkness in her green cheeks, the events of the previous night come rushing back into my memory all at once, creating a nervous explosion in my stomach.

Did that really just happen? Surely, it was just another of my strange, wicked dreams. But I can still almost feel her lips on mine, her arms pulling me close, and my body lighting up like a torch. I wanted her so completely, wholly and passionately that nothing else mattered. And she stopped me from going as far as I wanted to.

I can no longer look at her. I can feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. I try to focus my eyes on something, anything: Fiyero's poppies on the glass table, a spot of deep red amidst the green. Fiyero. I feel the guilt then, like a lump in my throat. I can't swallow; I can't breathe. _Breathe, Galinda,_ I tell myself. Then I remember that it's Glinda now. Everything has changed overnight. It's become so much more complicated. But air is still a priority. _Breathe, Glinda,_ I amend.

I can't say how long Elphie and I sit there in bed, looking in opposite directions. Perhaps it feels like longer than it really is. She is the one that breaks the silence.

"Would you like some tea? I fetched a pot earlier. It's still warm."

"You fetched it?" I ask, trying to sound assured. "You're not supposed to go fetching things in a place like this. You pick up that telathingy and call down to the front desk. You ask them to bring it to you."

"It was early. I didn't want you to be awakened by a knock at the door."'

"Admit it, you were scared of the telathingy," I say, risking a glance in her direction.

"Perhaps I was," she says, still not looking at me, though the corner of her mouth curves slightly upward.

She gets up on her spindly legs and walks across the room to pour me a cup. I look away from the poppies and up at the ceiling as I hear the clink of a spoon against porcelain. Then I realize that I'm in my underclothes and quickly pull the blanket up over my chest. She averts her eyes again as she hands me my drink. This is ridiculous. I have changed in front of this girl countless times. I have wandered around our dorm room clad as I am now, hair full of rollers, mud mask on my face. I've never had any modesty or shame: not with Elphaba or anyone else, for that matter.

She hands me my outfit from the previous day which was folded neatly on the nightstand. Then she scampers off without a word into the private bathroom.

We need to talk about this.

But how does one talk about something when one isn't even sure where they stand on it?

I could have stopped it before it even started. I could have met her kiss with a quick peck, pulled back, and nestled my forehead under her chin. Not another word would have needed to be said. I could have played it off as innocent and given Elphie the chance to escape with her dignity. Instead of, you know, shoving my tongue down her throat. In that way, I am to blame for this entire fiasco. I wanted it, obviously. Some part of me has wanted it for quite some time now. And I always get what I want.

It was horrendous timing. After all, it's been barely a week since I gave my virginity to Fiyero: the boy who I am supposed to be making very happy, though he's moodier than ever. At any rate, it was an act which would implicate serious commitment to him. I mean, perhaps it wouldn't for some girls I've known, but it does for me.

Of course, I didn't feel fully present with Fiyero, either the first time or the other two times we made love. Because, you give it to them once and they keep on expecting it, even if they're distant and moodified the rest of the time you are together. Try as I might, I could not will the passion I ought to have felt for my Winkie prince into being, and all I could say about sex was that it was okay. It wasn't painful or terribly traumatic. But it was kind of boring, laying there, pretending to be excited.

Kissing Elphie, I felt too present, frighteningly present. I delighted in her sighs, her gasps, the way she shuddered and squirmed in response to the wanderings of my lips. I didn't care about my own pleasure so much as hers. Her pleasure was my own. I wanted, more than anything, to make her feel as beautiful as she was - as she is - to me. When her lips touched mine, I felt invincible. Today, in the shadow of last night, I feel incredibly small and mortal.

I take a sip of my tea. Elphie knows exactly how much sugar I take, though I don't remember ever telling her.

I remember one impassioned late-night rant of Elphie's about an obscure branch of physics which theorizes that particles can be in two places at once. She said that perhaps, this is how we do magic: that science and sorcery must have some connection that has yet to be explored. But can the heart be in two places at once without breaking? As Elphie comes back from the bathroom, I look at her, and then I look to the flowers on the table. It feels like my heart is splitting in two. But the flowers aren't even mine.

"Come here," I say gently to Elphie, bidding her to sit in one of the high-backed chairs by the window. "We have some things to attend to." She looks at me nervously as I draw open the curtains; she probably assumes that I want to talk about last night. But I'm not ready to talk about it, not yet. The day at hand must be dealt with first, and the first matters which I intend to attend to are her eyebrows. She settles in the chair and I dig the tweezers from my purse.

"Must you?" she asks when she sees what I mean to do. "Really, must you? You seriously… you didn't even pack! You carry those implements of torture with you?"

"I'm always prepared for whatever contingencies may arise. And it's now or never, my dear girl," I say, tilting her chin toward me. "You are going to meet the Wizard. If you're going to wear that hat, well, you need to make some concessions elsewhere… It's high time to give up those caterpillars." She shuts her eyes, still unable to look at me, but makes no further protest.

She winces as I pluck the first errant hair from between her brows. Then another. Then another. As my right hand works at the tweezers, I offer my left hand for her to lean her face against. She does, bracing herself against my palm. Fortunately for her, I am quick and precise. In mere moments her eyebrows are whittled from bushy _things_ to graceful arches. I run my thumbs over them, smoothing them out.

The skin above my eyes is always red and puffy for at least an hour after I pluck my brows, which is why I was set on getting this task over with as early in the day as possible. But Elphie's green skin bears no marks. It definitely has its advantages, though she'd be inclined to disagree with me. With her face still pressed against my hand, she opens her eyes. They look wet with unshed tears. It surely couldn't have hurt that bad?

"Glinda," she says, voice trembling, "I'm sorry about last night, I…" She looks down, biting her lip.

"Don't be sorry, Elphie," I whisper, running my free hand through her hair and trailing my fingers down the side of her face, "I'm not."

And I am saying that to myself as well as her. It would have been easier if it never happened. It would be easier if I didn't have to think about where it leaves me - and us - but I'm not sorry it happened. I don't regret it. That is all we say on the subject for now. I dab at her eyes with the corner of my blouse, then trade my tweezers for a tube of mascara.

* * *

"Your fondness for ugly headwear has drastically limited our choices," I whine, shifting through yet another rack of dresses. "Choices that are already harshly limited by your complexion, might I add! But look at this dress, it would look so pretty on you! Without the hat, of course." I thrust an elegant silver gown in Elphie's direction. She scrunches her nose at me.

"Fine," I say, adding yet another black frock to the pile hanging over my arm. "Black, black and more black. You'd think you were going to a funeral rather than an audience with his Ozness. Now, come here… I fold my hands around her ribcage, beneath her breasts, taking measure. She stumbles backward into a rack of clothing. I roll my eyes.

"I'd say barely a thirty-two, and smallest cup size of course," I speak aloud, more to myself than to her, because for all she knows I may have just spoken words of an arcane magical language. I thrust the pile of dresses into her hands and point her to the dressing rooms. "Here, start trying these on. I'm going over to the lingerie section."

I return shortly with a pile of bras: the push up kind, with extra padding. All in black, to match the dresses. "Try these!" I shout before passing them through the curtain into Elphie's dressing room. Normally, I'd be in there with her, but we're both feeling a little modest at the moment.

A few minutes pass. "Glinda?" comes a tiny voice from behind the curtain. "Can you… help me? I am a little… perplexed."

So I enter the dressing room after all, to find Elphie tangled up in not one, but two bras. That takes a special kind of talent. She looks extremely frustrated to say the least, and when I collapse in giggles against the wall, her frustration seems to grow. The straps are twisted tightly around her narrow arms in a way that has bound them to her sides, so she can't reach up to pull them off.

"I should just leave you like that," I smile. Her eyes bore a hole straight through me.

"Fine, fine," I sigh, making a big production of assisting her. I toss the first bra aside, lengthen the straps on the second and untwist it from her body before hooking it in the back. I tighten the straps again just slightly and I'm pleased with the result. "Look how scrumptious you look!" I say, turning Elphie to look at her black lace-clad reflection.

"I don't like it," she frowns, "it's itchy!" She immediately starts pulling at the straps, trying to remove it. I sigh. Sometimes she's such a child, though she could easily say the same for me. We switch lace out for satin, which she doesn't protest quite as much.

"It's still uncomfortable," she groans.

"You'll get used to it," I say. "Besides, I've got the matching panties right here," I grin, holding them up.

"Glinda, you're insane! Why must they match? It's not like anyone is going to see them…"

"_Someone _just might," I say before I can stop myself.

"Oh," she says, and the shred of normalcy we just got back is lost again. We are both blushing, staring in opposite directions like we were this morning. Did I mean that? Do I actually intend for it to happen again? Nervously, she picks up a dress and pulls it on. It is bell-sleeved taffeta with a gigantic bow at the waist.

"No," we say in unison.

I watch her as she undresses and dresses and undresses again. I watch as silk and lace and cotton in turn are drawn up over the curve of her spine. We may have agreed on the tafetta, but we don't agree on anything else. Every dress she likes is far too matronly. The only dress I like on her, she thinks, is too racy. "For the Ozdust Ballroom, fine," she huffs at her reflection, "but not to meet the Wizard!"

"Sleeveless isn't racy!" I argue. After nearly an hour, we're both at our crankiest. The Emerald City is waiting, and we're cooped up in this little room, unable to see eye-to-eye on anything. Then it happens. She buttons herself into dress number seventeen and I am looking at a whole new Elphaba.

The dress has a high collar and long, tight sleeves which puff at the upper arms, balancing out her narrow shoulders. The bodice of it nips in the waist, which along with the bra I've forced upon her, gives her figure the appearance of a slender hourglass. The lightweight skirt flares only slightly around her, draping to mid-calf: the perfect length, I note, to be worn with a pair of the boots that Elphie so prefers. Another concession I can probably stand to make.

"Miracle of miracles, we don't even have to have it taken in!" I gush. That was a problem with the sleeveless dress that I liked before. "Apparently there are dressmakers out there that cater to beanpoles after all! Although, I think all the snacks have been helping…" I gently pinch the flesh at her hip, delighting that there's the tiniest bit of flesh to pinch. She squeaks and shoves my hand away. I giggle. The tension of the previous moments is gone.

"Why, look at you, Elphie" I smile. "You're not the gangly green student who came to Shiz. You are a woman."

"Lies," she says, and produces the hat, folded, from her satchel. It immediately springs back into its horrid shape. She places it atop her head.

"And of course, you have to ruin it," I sigh. But she's still beautiful, ugly hat and all. The hat is a tribute to me, after all… I feel a tightness in my chest which I try to ignore.

I yank the tag from the dress, snapping it loose, and go bounding to the counter. "We'll take it!" I shout to the shopkeeper, who looks slightly frightened, more so of me than my green-skinned companion. I'm just about to produce my wallet when a realization hits me.

"I don't have a dress yet," I say. "Or shoes…"

Elphie looks like she's going to cry at the prospect of having to endure more shopping

"Okay, okay," I say, pulling out the wallet. "Why don't you go to that bookstore down the street while I pick out clothes for myself?" Her eyes light up at the mention of bookstore, and I press a stack of bills into her hand.

* * *

I leave the dress shop in pale yellow, because green would be too cliché. However, yellow compliments green nicely: green cities, green palaces and green friends-or-something-elses? I picked something with thin straps in lieu of sleeves - "racy" - just to be spiteful. The weather is certainly warm enough to bare my shoulders, anyway.

It doesn't take me long to find Elphie in the bookstore. "You are getting quite easy to _point _out," I say to her, giggling. I know she doesn't have the appreciation for puns that I do, so I expect a glare or eye roll in return, but instead I get a smile.

"Glinda," she says, "you look… very pretty. I got you some presents." She reaches into her satchel and produces two pairs of emerald-colored sunglasses. "There was a vendor selling these on the street, I thought they might be fun." I squeal with delight as I put mine on. She follows suite, without the squealing. If the city around us wasn't glaringly green to begin with, it certainly is now.

"I'm not done yet," Elphie says. She hands me a book: _The Illustrated Architecture of the Emerald City._

"You were supposed to buy things for yourself," I chide, hugging her tightly and showering her cheeks with kisses all the while.

"It was your money," she says as we sit down on a bench to organize our things.

"You know, I may have been in love with a girl once," I say and Elphie stops fussing with the contents of her satchel to look at me. I'm not sure why I said it. But now it's out.

"Her name was Brillet. She was my best friend back in Frottica. She had beautiful red hair… curly like mine. But she was tall and skinny like you. Maybe not as tall or as skinny, but everyone is tall compared to me, right? Do you remember when I told you that I taught other girls how to kiss? Well, she was the first one. And I wanted to kiss her again so much, but I never did. I was afraid of ruining the closeness we had. Turns out I lost it anyway. Her boyfriends were always her first priority. I hoped she would come to university with me, but she never had any interest. Just before I left for Shiz, she told me she was with child. She married the father soon after. It was a quick affair. I wasn't even invited."

What I don't say is that I did try to kiss Brillet a second time, when we were almost sixteen. She patted my head, told me I was getting carried away, and we never spoke of it again.

I have tried to avoid becoming Brill in every possible way. Even when I was wrapped up in Fiyero, I never abandoned my friends. At least, I didn't abandon the ones - or the one - who really mattered. And I don't want to be Brill now. I don't want us to leave this city pretending that nothing ever happened and that there's nothing between us.

"Elphie, what are we?" I ask.

"Humans, I presume," she says. "Ozians. Girls. University students."

"Just two friends?" I press.

"I'm not the one to answer that question," she replies. "Because I am not the one who stands to lose anything, should we change our definition. Right now, we are two good friends. Anything more is your decision. And either way, I will be okay with it."

It sounds cold. Detached. My face must bear my disappointment at her lack of conviction, because she puts her hand over mine.

"Don't look at me like that, my sweet. I never expected your… response last night. It was more than I could have expected and more than I could have hoped for. You already have enough expectations placed upon you, and I don't want to add mine to your burden. Come," she says, standing up. "Lets drop our things off at the hotel. There will still be time for lunch and some sightseeing before _Wizomania_."

I stand up and loop my arm through hers. "Are you nervous about meeting the Wizard?" I ask.

"It hasn't fully hit me yet," she says.

* * *

I see it before she does. She's looking at the banners draped over the side of a building, advertisements for watches and tick-tock gadgets, when it catches my eye. I stop, frozen in my tracks.

"What's wrong, my sweet?" Elphie asks me, then she sees it too. Or rather, sees _him _- a man clad curiously in nothing but a loincloth, standing on the edge of the fountain in the square. And completely green, from head to toe. "Can it be, Glinda?" she asks, wide-eyed.

As we creep together, quietly, in the direction of the green man, I feel a prickle of jealousy. His body _is _rather attractively sculpted. And for Elphie to meet someone like her in this city, someone so disgustingly handsome... It's like something right out of a fairytale. A fairytale in which I have no role. I am clutching tightly to her arm, but in my mind, they have already run away together to have a slew of perfect green babies and a wedding to which I am not invited.

I notice that our quarry has not moved since we spotted him. Perhaps he's not a person, but a statue. That would be such a relief. But what an odd place for a statue!

As we move closer, I can see his chest rising and falling with his breath. So he is alive after all. There is a hat, overturned, by his feet which into which passerby toss coins. Is he some sort of busker? Arms still linked, we inch closer, closer… The man suddenly shifts positions. Elphie jumps. I squeal. He looks at us, screams and falls back into the fountain. I peer over the edge and see green paint dissolving in the water. It wasn't real after all! He doesn't appear to be hurt, but Oz be damned if he doesn't look angry.

His anger is apparently for Elphie, not me, as he scrambles to his knees in the water. "You think you can just prance in here and take over my livelihood!" he shouts, pointing a finger at her. "I was the original emerald statue!"

"She was born green," I protest, stepping in front of her protectively.

"My foot she was!" he shouts. Elphie just stands there, mouth agape. We are starting to draw a crowd, and I know that she's uncomfortable.

"If that green doesn't wash off in this fountain, I will give you the contents of my hat," the busker says arrogantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

I turn to Elphie with a questioning look. I would love the prove the bastard wrong and have him eating his words. "No, Glinda," she whispers, putting up her hands. "We can't take his money."

I have to respect her wishes.

"Well, you see," I say to the busker, fidgeting nervously, "that is just the problem. Because of her unusual skin condition, she doesn't tolerate exposure to water. In fact, it burns her." This is the same ridiculous line Elphie gave some of our classmates back at Shiz, and the crowd apparently thinks it's just as ridiculous as I do.

"What a hack!" shouts one woman.

"Get a bucket," shouts a man, "throw some water on her!"

Well!

After all the time we spent picking out that dress, they intend to get it wet! The nerve! That will ruin our entire day! So I do the only thing I can think of: I grab Elphie's arm and bolt for the nearest side street. The small crowd roars with laughter as we flee, but no one follows us. My heart is beating hard in my chest as I pull Elphie into an alleyway. Out of breath, we slump against the brick wall.

"That was the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me," she says.

"Tell me about it! I thought he was for real," I say, then I grin mischievously. "Best hope he retires soon, or your only talent will go to waste!"

"That's not funny…" Elphie says.

"Then again," I continue, "you could never pretend to be a statue. You don't have the grace for it. "

"That's not funny…" she says again, lowering the pitch of her voice.

"After all, statues don't get themselves tangled up in bra straps."

She takes a step closer to me, running her fingertips over my cheek, eyes intense. For a minute, I think that she's going to kiss me again, and sweet Oz do I want her to. She doesn't, but I'm subdued nonetheless, and as she turns to walk back to the street, I am chasing after her like a puppy, the way dozens of boys have chased after me.

* * *

It's during _Wizomania: The Musical_ that Elphie finally gets nervous about our upcoming audience. She doesn't seem to be paying any attention to the performance. She fidgets and wrings her hands all through the first number: a song about a farm boy from a place called Kansas who was born with mysterious magical powers.

Her hat is sitting in her lap. I reach over, closing my hand around the point of it, sliding my fingers up and down in a rather naughty sort of gesture in hopes of amusing or distracting her. She puts the hat on the floor, out of my reach, and goes back to fidgeting. I set my hand on her knee and tickle it through her skirt. She claps both hands over her mouth to avoid making a sound which would call the attention of the entire theatre. I giggle and slide my fingers up to the lower part of her thigh, gently massaging. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and folds her fingers over mine.

Suddenly, I am the one feeling nervous. I'm not nervous about meeting the Wizard, whose likeness is currently belting out a tune about rainbows and finding a world where he belongs or some other such nonsense. I am nervous about sharing a bed with this beautiful, intelligent, fiery, gentle girl again. I want to run my hand farther up her thigh. I want more of her lovely kisses. I will be forced to define us and to give up the life I had before. I will be forced to give up Fiyero…

Not that he'd take it too hard. He tries to reassure me that I'm the only one for him, but he'd probably have another girl on his arm within a week. Maybe Pfannee would swoop in to claim him. She's had eyes for him for a long time. He'd only be happier for it in the end, because he deserves someone who can fully appreciate him.

He might very well tell me that there's no need to end things, that I can have him and Elphie both and he'd be no worse for the wear. In fact, he might be thrilled. But that's not me. I would need to leave him.

And what would my parents think? I suppose I'd have to tell them eventually. They'd want to know what happened to the Winkie prince. I have an uncle who prefers the company of other men and they've never treated him differently. But I assume that it's different when it's your own daughter, and there's also the matter of Elphie's color…

Like she said, I am the one who has something to lose. But if I don't let it go, what will I lose in turn? I turn my hand around so that our palms are resting against each other. We stay like this for the rest of the show.

* * *

Stairs, stairs and more stairs. The guards have blocked all the doorways, and up is the only way to go. It's just a question of how far up until we're trapped. I hear the heavy thud of a dozen boots behind us, forcing me to run a little faster in my heels. My feet ache but I need to catch up to Elphie before the guards catch up with us both. I need to talk some sense into her before she finds herself in Southstairs. I am incredibly angry and so incredibly scared.

"Stop!" I cry as she nearly shuts a door in my face. She holds it open just long enough for me to squeeze through. "Where do you think you are going?"

"There are no more stairs," she barks, frantically. "This must be the attic. The guards are coming up. We have to barricade the door!"

"And for what?" I ask, as she jams an old broom against it. "They'll get in eventually. You need to stop this madness now! You need to apologize!"

"Why would I ever want to apologize?" she asks angrily.

"Why can't you stay calm for once instead of flying off the handle?" I scream. "I hope you're happy now! I hope you're happy with this mess you made!"

"I hope you're happy!" she fires right back at me. "I hope you're proud to be so unaffected by the suffering of your fellow creatures. I suppose you're too busy soaking up praise! That's all you ever cared about!"

"That's not it, Elphie! We're two people. Two humans, two girls, two university students," I say, tugging at her sleeve. "What the Wizard did to those monkeys wasn't right. But we don't have the power to change this."

"I beg to differ," she says, fingering the Grimmerie in her satchel. "I was used as a pawn, but I will not allow myself to be used again!"

"That book got us into this mess in the first place!" I say. "I don't want to make an enemy of the ruler of Oz, and neither do you! Trust me, you don't… We're not invincible. We're in over our heads!"

"Glinda…we're the only ones who know. We're the only ones who stand a chance at making some kind of difference…"

She is interrupted by the sound of Madame Morrible's voice booming throughout the city by means of magical amplification. "Citizens of Oz," it echoes, "there is an enemy that must be found and captured immediately. Don't believe anything she says. She is evil, responsible for the mutilation of those poor innocent monkeys! Her green skin is but an outward manifestorium of her twisted nature: this distortion, this repulsion, this _wicked witch_!"

As the sound of Morrible's voice dies away, Elphie begins to laugh. "It's really hysterical, isn't it, Glinda?" she asks.

"No, it isn't… it really isn't!" I frown.

"Oh, but it is! 'Elphaba, you make me so proud! You are like the daughter I never had!'" she says in a deep voice, reminiscent of our headmistress-turned-press-secretary.

She throws her head back and cackles harshly, but there are tears in her eyes. So that's their game, is it? That's what they've been working at? Elphie's mother is dead and her father hates her, so we'll give her the fantasy of loving pseudo-parentals in order to make her do our bidding! And when she doesn't do our bidding, we'll throw it back in her face, along with the color of her skin. How dishonorable!

I soften and wrap my arms around her, holding her just like I did on the day that Dr. Dillamond was fired. "Don't be afraid," I whisper, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm not afraid," she says, voice quavering as she takes a step away from me. "It's the Wizard who should be afraid of me!"

"Elphie, listen to me!" I say, clutching her shoulders desperately. "Please just say you're sorry!" I grasp the sides of her face, holding it just inches from my own, and look deep into her dark eyes. "You worked so hard to get here. Don't throw it all away!"

She turns away. "I don't want any of it," she says, neither angry or tearful, but frighteningly resolute. "I can't want it anymore. The cost is too high. I won't sell myself."

"You'd rather be thrown in the dungeon?" I ask.

"I'd rather try… defying gravity," she replies, pulling the Grimmerie from her satchel. Defying gravity? She starts reading; I recognize the words instantly and I know what she means to do. It's that horrid levitation spell which isn't a levitation spell at all. She means to give herself ugly, painful-looking wings! I sink to my knees, begging her to stop, but nothing can break her from the trance she's in. She doesn't stop reading until the spell is through. Nothing happens, and I don't know whether to be relieved.

"Where are your wings?" I ask as the guards pound on the door. "Maybe you aren't as powerful as you think. Elphie, please, come to your senses… Oh, sweet Oz!"

The broom she used to block the door is hovering in midair. She runs and snatches it down, throwing a leg over its handle as if it were a hobby horse. "Get on!" she commands, sliding back, so that I might sit in front of her. "Come with me?"

I look at her hesitantly. I was almost ready to be with her. I was almost ready to leave Fiyero. A little more time… But this is too much. I can't leave everything and everyone behind. It's not just my boyfriend, my friends and my reputation. It's my family back in Frottica: my mother and my father. I can't hurt them like that. I can't put them at risk. I shake my head.

"I hope you're happy," I whisper. Elphie dismounts to look at me and runs a green hand down my cheek. She's trembling. There's a cloak that someone has cast aside, probably a member of the palace staff in some late-night attic rendezvous. I pick it up and throw it over her shoulders, securing it beneath her chin. Her mind is made up. She has to be her. She could never and will never compromise herself, no matter what the risk or the cost. This is why… it would have never worked. I would have only held her back.

"So this is goodbye," she says. "I hope you're happy too. I hope life gives you everything you've dreamed of." Must she be so dramatic? It's not like this is goodbye forever… is it? I choke back tears. I need to be strong for her. I need to let her go. But not without one last kiss… I lean in toward her, and the guards break through the door before I can meet her lips. We run, but one of them grabs my arm, and begins to drag me away.

"Let her go! She had nothing to do with it!" Elphie shouts, holding her broom in front of her like a staff or a sword. "It's me you want!" She swings her leg over it again, pulling the handle up and rising in the air. The guards rush toward her, but she hovers just above then, taunting. She casts one last look at me, then, and makes a beeline for the tiny window. She gestures with her hands and the glass explodes, clearing the way for her. And then she's outside, rising up into the night sky, defying gravity. She is strong and resolute: my Elphie, the Wizard and Morrible's Wicked Witch.

The Wicked Witch who wouldn't hurt a tiny frog, or even the spiders I begged her to kill when they invaded our room.

The Wicked Witch who couldn't coordinate an outfit if her life depended on it.

The Wicked Witch, whose toenails are still a pale shade of pink beneath her boots, strictly as a result of my goading.

The Wicked Witch who doted fiercely on her undeserving sister.

The Wicked Witch who doted just as fiercely on her undeserving roommate.

The Wicked Witch who cares more for Animals than she does for herself.

The Wicked Witch who chooses books over food and stays up late ranting about physics and magic.

The Wicked Witch who blushes fiercely at any kind of innuendo, but kisses delightfully.

The Wicked Witch who arches her back and stretches like a cat if you scratch behind her shoulder blades.

The Wicked Witch who is the best friend I've ever had.

The Wicked Witch who I may just be in love with.

Oh Elphie!

* * *

_**Next up:** Glinda deals with the fallout of Elphie's departure the best that she can. Don't fret too much; I promise we're not at the end yet!_


	9. To Forget or To Remember?

_**AN: **__I __would like to wish a very happy (if slightly belated) 16th birthday to Merina 2 here on ff dot net! Mer, I'm sorry I didn't write you that oneshot fic, but I owe you. I also want to note that I now have a live journal for purposes of being a silly fangirl. It is linked on my profile. Feel free to stop by and laugh at my horrible attempts at fanart and greenifying myself._

**Chapter Nine: To Forget or To Remember**

"Get up," says one of the guards, but his voice sounds far away as I stare through the shattered window. "Get up," he says again. When I don't answer, he yanks my arm roughly, pulling me to my feet. Any other day I would yell at him for his carelessness, but I am speechless and numb as he drags me to the attic door. I don't mean to be disobedient but it feels like my body is shutting down. I cannot will my legs to move beneath me.

"Careful," says one of his companions, "she's not our criminal. There's no need to handle her like one."

"With all due respect, she's not coming along freely. What am I supposed to do with her?"

"She's just a student; she's probably scared witless right now. Have some humanity." The second guard takes my arm more gently, almost protectively. "Come along, Miss," he says, "No one is going to hurt you. I'm sure you had quite a fright, but we are going to take you somewhere quiet."

Fright doesn't even begin to cover it. I feel sick to my stomach. I want to run as far away from this place as possible.

"I would very much like to go back to my hotel," I say shakily. "I need to pack my things so I can be on the train back to Shiz tomorrow morning."

"That is up to the Wizard now," the guard says as he leads me down the stairs. "I'm afraid we can't allow you to leave just yet."

I am escorted to a small parlor several floors down and told to stay put. The door is shut behind me and I am alone, except for the guards who I assume are posted outside, just in case I am so bold as to try anything. I sit down in an overstuffed chair and pull my knees to my chest. A chill is starting to overcome me. I wish I had chosen a dress with longer sleeves in a heavier fabric; I'm glad that Elphie did. I'm glad I found the cloak for her to take with her.

I… can't believe she's gone!

She's defying gravity. On a broom. Running away with nothing but the clothes on her back and an ancient book of magic. And my heart told me that I needed to let her go. But the more I think of it, the crazier it seems. I have no idea where she means to run to. Her father will offer her no protection and I don't think she has any friends outside Shiz. I don't know how she intends to stand against the Wizard. He is the Wizard, after all! And I don't know how she intends to stand against anyone when she doesn't even have a safe place to stay. She's so brave and so irrational. It breaks my heart.

Or it would break my heart, if my heart hadn't shut down as I watched her disappear into the night sky. I know that Galinda would cry now. She would bury her face in her hands. She'd weep and wail and let the tears flow freely. Glinda appears to be more collected, but really, she's just too dazed to be very much of anything. And maybe this is good. It would not do to be seen bawling my eyes out when I am questioned, which I'm sure I will be in due time. I need to stay calm, explain myself and not get thrown into the dungeon. Avoiding the dungeon is a reasonable goal, I tell myself in a detached sort of way.

After what seems like an eternity of staring numbly at the wall, someone finally comes into the room. It's Madame Morrible. The sight of her hulking frame in the doorway makes me feel something like emotion. I never quite trusted her, but Elphie wanted to think the best of her; she looked up to her. Morrible, in turn, deceived and betrayed the girl who was supposedly her favorite student.

"Galinda Upland, my dear!" she exclaims. Her horrid pea green frock swishes loudly as she crosses the room toward me. She's carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups on saucers: exactly the same saucers as the one used in our ill-fated levitation lesson. How is that even possible?

"It's Glinda now," I say weakly.

"Yes, of course. Glinda," she says dismissively. "You have had a trying day. You must be so cold in that impractical outfit. Here, have some tea." She pours a cup and places it on the small table in front of us. I lift it and peer suspiciously into the dark liquid. It could be magic-spelled. I'll bet anything it's magic-spelled. I will not drink it.

"Sugar?" she asks me. I shake my head.

"Feeling a little bitter, Miss Upland? I dare say we all are right now. You must think I'm quite the monster for the announcement that I made to the City, and there will be more announcements like it, I'm afraid. Of course, you understand the necessity of swift preemptive measures in a situation like this."

"Do I?" I ask flatly, staring into the tea: a deep red shade which unnerves me. I'm doing my best not to show my anger, but I am quite sure it is rising off me like steam.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that playing dumb doesn't become you?" Morrible asks, slamming down her own teacup. The liquid splashes on her sleeve. "Because, it doesn't. You know very well the severity of this situation. The most powerful magical talent Oz has seen in ages has run off with an ancient spell book and a vendetta against the Wizard. The knowledge she possesses is an enormous threat to the reputation of his Ozness. If it gets out that he has no power of his own, he will be vulnerable. The nation will be in uproar! I care about Elphaba too, but what would you have me do? Sit here on my thumbs and wait for the all-too-impressionable public to form their own opinions when she gets to them? That would be irresponsible of me, to say the least!"

"Forgive me," I muster. "I don't know how to think about things from the perspective of someone in a position of politicary influence, which is why you are a palace official and I'm not."

Morrible laughs. "Things change quickly, my dear," she says with an odd grin.

"May I ask, though…" I begin.

"You may ask anything you like," she answers. "I will be frank with you. Even if I don't personally believe that you deserve any explanations, his Ozness does."

"Are you really more worried about the people of Oz finding out that the Wizard has no magic than finding out about the Animals?" I ask.

"Far more. Animals are nothing but a fringe group. Most of the public either already shares the Wizard's opinion of them or is apathetic on the subject. After all, I doubt you've seen much outrage over their dwindling rights, other than Elphaba's little outbursts. It's really a pity she became so attached to the issue. I warned his Ozness she was a bit, shall we say, impassioned about it. I told him we couldn't let her know everything at once. But he assumed that she'd be so in awe of him that she'd unquestionably do whatever he asked of her, even if it would bring harm to an Animal. Men! I'll tell you, so stubborn sometimes!"

The corners of her mouth curve into a smile, revealing her teeth. "Thankfully, no one was ever too inclined to listen to the rants and raves of an overly temperamental green-skinned student. They should be less likely to listen to the rants and raves of a wicked green-skinned _witch_. Yet it pains me to know that this whole situation could have been avoided with a little bit of tact," Morrible continues, "as I really do like Elphaba much better than you. Still, you stand to benefit."

"Forgive me, Madame, but I see absolutely no benefit here for anyone," I say.

"Oh, but there is an opening in the palace for an aspiring sorceress," she croons. She's mocking me. She knows I can't perform magic. That's why she brought the saucers: to remind me.

"I am well aware of my shortcomings," I sigh.

"Glinda, I am serious," she says, focusing her gaze on me intensely. "The Wizard is buying you off. He's offering you a position in the palace, along with all the accompanying wealth and prestige, in exchange for your silence on certain matters."

I gasp. This is not what I expected.

"Makes me kind of sick that you'll be able to go flouncing around pretending you actually have power," she hisses. "But in a way, the arrangement works for me too. After all, as Press Secretary, I need a believable story of how our new Wicked Witch came to be. I'm thinking that this is how the story shall go: You were the promising Sorcery student I have been training in private and it was you who were summoned here to meet with his Ozness.

Out of the kindness of your heart, you brought your socially inept roommate along with you. Wait, no. It wouldn't do to have it be known she was your roommate, otherwise imaginations will start running wild. Better not to let them know you were even friends. Elphaba was a jealous rival student who followed you here to the city without your knowledge. And when the Wizard extended his offer of employment to you, she retaliated by cursing his monkey servants and flying off into the night. That is why she is slandering him to anyone who will listen. She wanted what you have."

"No one will believe that," I say.

"Oh, they will. So many girls already want what you have. You were blessed with certain gifts your roommate was lacking. Though I'm afraid your gifts are far more common and cheap than hers, it's not much of a stretch to imagine that the outcast green girl was envious of beautiful, perfect Glinda just like every other girl at Shiz.

You know, you and the Wizard have more in common than you realize. You may not have powers of your own, but you are masters of illusion. Make people like you and they'll believe anything, because they want to believe in you. We'll present you to the people of Oz. You'll address them, say you're going to protect them from the Wicked Witch by the power of your immaculate goodness, blah blah blah. We'll arrange for some sort of flimflam spectacle to make it look like you're doing magic. Everyone will ooh and aah. It's really not complicated."

"What if I refuse?" I ask. "What if I won't do it?"

"Well, there are alternatives. Alternatives, mind you, that I would have preferred to employ to begin with. But the Wizard is a bit softer than I am. And I have all of the confidence that you will accept his offer, really. It's the life you've always wanted, after all: the fawning and the adoration. Glinda, be honest with yourself, it's the life you chose when you decided to stay behind, rather than following Elphaba on her wild flight of fancy."

She stands and swishes arrogantly to the door, leaving the tray of teacups and saucers behind. As soon as she's gone, I send them to the floor with one furious swipe of my arm. Then I swallow hard and cry angrily, because I'm afraid that she's right.

* * *

I tried to leave the parlor a little while ago, but as I assumed, there were armed guards posted outside the door. They didn't buy my excuse of needing to use the washroom.

"We'll bring you a chamber pot if you really need it," one of them said with a snicker. Eww. It's a good thing I didn't drink much today, because I can't imagine the thought! I found myself wishing I could have the nice guard from earlier back, but there are a lot of things I could wish for right now. Wishing won't do any good.

It's getting late, though how late, I don't know. There are no clocks in this room. Will I be forced to sleep in this chair? Or worse, will I be ushered into a cell? What are the alternatives that Morrible mentioned? I shiver, not wanting to think about it. When I hear the door creak open, I brace myself for whatever is to come. I am greeted by the sight of the Wizard in slippers and an emerald green dressing gown.

"Why, hello there," he says, "I am sorry to keep you waiting so long, but I had a lot of business to attend to after our unfortunate debacle. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Is there anything I can get… oh my!" He spots the shattered tea set on the floor. "Not thirsty then?" he asks. I frown.

"Glinda," he says, taking a seat beside me, "I can tell that you're hurting." He leans in toward me sympathetically and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Truth is, I'm hurting a lot right now too. I had great hopes for Elphaba. I didn't think things would go like this."

_Well, you're thick, then _I think, but I bite my lip. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. At least, not to the ruler of your country.

"I would like you to know," he says, "that I have given strict orders to the Gale Force. If she is found, she is to be captured alive and unharmed. I haven't given up hope that I can win her back yet." I look up to meet his eyes, searching them. They are blue, but there's something in the shape of them… Something strangely familiar. Morrible is right in that there is something about this man that makes me want to believe him. Master of illusion, I remind myself.

"You mean, you won't have her executed or thrown in Southstairs for her supposed crimes?" I ask.

"Execution?" he exclaims, "Unthinkable! And imprisonment would be an absolute last resort. I need her powers, and I do feel a great deal of compassion for her particular… situation. I can only imagine she's had a hard life. I assure you, my dear, that we are united in our concern for your friend. And that is why I need you."

"Not so I can tell the people of Oz how terrible she is?" I ask doubtfully.

"My new Press Secretary is already attending to that matter. I envision a slightly different role for you. Madame Morrible will bring fear to the people of Oz; you will counter that with hope. You will host parties and cut ribbons. You will wave from balconies and parade floats. You will speak of goodness and its ultimate prevalence over evil. But most importantly, you will give Elphaba something to come back for. I have it on good authority that you were her only real friend. It's not easy to ignore such ties. You might be able to talk some sense into her."

"Your Ozness, believe me, I tried that! But she's not like everyone else. She cares more about her cause than she cares about friendship." The words sting me as I say them. "She cares more about her cause than she cares about herself. I mean no disrespectmentation, but if you want her by your side, you might want to reconsider your position on Animals."

"I'm not torturing them, Glinda! She needs to understand that, and so do you!" he says abruptly, slapping the arm of the chair. His face reddens. It scares me to see the change from his gentle demeanor.

"Forgive me, my dear. Let me explain my reasoning. Perhaps a little metaphor will do… You and I are quite capable of using a knife to cut the food we're eating into manageable bites. But would you give that same knife to an infant? I think not. The tool is benign in skilled hands, but it is dangerous to someone who doesn't have the facilities to use it. Animals are infants with knives: they've been given too much power and responsibility in our society. In the end, they'll only hurt others and themselves."

"They're not happy with losing what they've always had," I observe.

"Well, of course not. Take anything from a child and he cries bloody murder. But given just a clock tick he'll forget he ever had it. Animals will get used to these changes faster than you believe they will. We are doing it for their own good."

"Your Ozness, I wish I could believe that," I say sadly. He smiles.

"Glinda, Madame Morrible could have used magic to give you a severe case of amnesia. In fact, that was her first suggestion: that we erase your memory and get you out of our way. But I wanted to do better by you. I wanted to offer you this chance. Stay here for a few days and think about it. If, by the end of the week, you still haven't changed your mind, then I will have Madame perform the spell. I don't want to hold you prisoner here, but I can't let you leave knowing all the things that you know."

I feel a tightness in my chest. "How much… would that spell make me forget?" I ask. "Would it make me forget who I am? My childhood? My family?"

"You will forget this trip," he says, matter-of-factly, "nothing more and nothing less. But as I said, no decisions yet. You are exhausted, and you need time to mull it all over. I had your things brought over from the Emerald Marquise, and your room should be ready for you. So I am going to bid you goodnight for now."

He stands and turns to leave, then he pauses and turns back to me. "Glinda, you can believe it," he says. "You just have to let yourself believe it. Believe that we're doing what is for the best, and believe that Elphaba will come back to you." He kisses my forehead.

My head spins.

* * *

The elegance of the Wizard's palace is entirely lost on me as I am escorted to one of the many guest rooms by a servant: a pale, freckled girl not much older than me. She told me her name when she bowed before me, but I cannot remember it. It is as if I've already been given magical amnesia. My eyes cannot focus on a single thing. The servant bids me goodnight and I practically stumble into bed. I close my eyes and then open them to see Elphie's suitcase laying beside me.

I sit up and unzip it. Packed inside are the green glasses and the architecture book she purchased for me. I set them gingerly on the sheets to uncover a mix of her clothing and my own. There is the outfit she wore yesterday: a blouse that was originally mine paired with one of her skirts. There's a dull gray dress, probably what she was planning on wearing today before the shopping trip I forced on her. And there are my pajamas that she's grown so fond of. They still smell like her.

Underneath the clothing, there is a pile of books. The rest of her books are still in our room back at Shiz. She only has one book to read now. I hope it's worth it.

I change into the pajamas then crawl under the ornate green and gold blankets. It is then that I finally break down completely. I pull the pile of Elphie's clothes to my face and sob against them for all I am worth. I wish I would have fought harder to keep her here. I had to let her go, I tell myself over and over again.

Maybe this is all a nightmare. Maybe I will wake up in our room at Shiz, in my roommate's arms. I will nuzzle her shoulder. She will rub circles on my back, kiss my forehead, and tell me everything is okay. I will cling to her more tightly than I've ever clung to anyone in my life.

And then, I will kiss her, like I did in the bed at the Marquise.

It would never have worked, I tell myself.

To forget or to remember? Neither option seems any less painful, and neither one seems fair.

Green is everywhere, taunting me. Like our room at the Marquise, the room at the palace boasts green curtains. However, they are made of heavy velour and let little light in. That suits me just fine, because I could sleep all day. Then I don't have to deal with the reality of what's happening and the choices I need to make. I was dreading choices yesterday morning, but they were nothing in comparison to the ones I have to make now.

I wish I could ask Elphie what to do now. Should I let Morrible spell me, go back to Shiz and continue my life there, not knowing why Elphie is gone from it and why she's the Wicked Witch? Or should I stay here and try to fill the shoes intended for her? Would it really give her a reason to come back, or just a reason to hate me? Would coming back be in her best interest at all?

I want her to come back, I admit to myself. Maybe it's selfish of me. But I really want what's best for her, too. I don't want her to spend her life running and fighting. She and the Wizard could sit down and talk things out about the Animals. They could reach some sort of agreement…

My thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock at the door. The servant from last night wheels in a breakfast cart stacked with more food than I could possibly eat. "Miss Glinda," she says, "his Ozness requests your company in two hours for a private tour of the palace and lunch in the dining hall. Do you require a fresh outfit? I can arrange to have one delivered."

"No," I say dismissively. For the first time in my life, I have no interest in how I look.

"If you change your mind, let me know when I return to retrieve your dishes," the girl says, and with another bow, she leaves me with the mountain of food. Eggs, bacon, sausages, pastries, fruit, champagne mixed with berry juice…

Under any other circumstances, I would be in heaven. As it is, I can barely finish a slice of toast. I stab my fork idly into the mass of eggs, moving them back and forth on the plate. It's an Elphie trick: playing with food instead of eating it. She did that when she was upset or angry. Who will be there to make sure she eats now? Surely one can't go around trying to change the fate of Oz on a perpetually empty stomach.

Elphie, wherever you are, I wish you massive quantiaries of the smelly fish you love so much. I raise my glass of berry-champagne in silent toast to that thought and swig it. Perhaps I will ask for more and show up for my palace tour horridly drunk.

I change out of my pajamas and into the wadded grey dress that I held in my arms last night. The fabric is thin, worn at the elbows and fraying at the sleeves. I check the mirror on the dresser. The dress is definitely too tight and too long. The fabric strains across my breasts and the buttons between them look like they are about to pop open. The hem trails on the ground. My hair is messy and stringy. There are dark circles under my eyes.

The servant eyes me disapprovingly when she returns for the dishes. "Are you ill," she asks me, "or just out of your mind?"

"I am perfectly fine," I reply.

"Obviously you're not," she huffs. "You are being given the opportunity of a lifetime and to waste it is an insult to those of us who aren't so lucky. I am drawing you a bath and then I will fetch you a proper outfit. I ought to throw that hideous thing out!"

It's funny, but sad at the same time: I can imagine myself having said those exact words to Elphie in another time and place.

"Don't you touch the dress," I warn her. After she goes into the bathroom, I tuck it inside a pillowcase.

After my bath, the servant, whose name is Helene, yanks a comb through my wet hair and makes up my face while telling me about her previous life in the streets. Abandoned by her parents at a young age, the only ways to make a living were pick pocketing and prostitution. It took the interest of a client who happened to be a Gale Force officer to get her a job here at the palace: a job for which she owes him her body whenever he wants it. But it's better to be at the mercy of one man than many, she figures. Not everyone in Oz can be born into privlege, as I obviously was, and allowances must be made. I am acting like a spoiled brat, and I'm obviously an idiot who doesn't know how harsh the world really is. I sit, wide-eyed, listening to her tirade.

She thinks the Wizard intends to take me as a wife, and I don't feel like sparing the energy to correct her. "It's quite a surprise, really," she yammers, "I thought he was seeing that awful sorcery woman, for all the time that she spent here. There," she puts a final dab of blush on my cheeks, "there you are. A perfectly beautiful little idiot." She hands me a mirror so I can look at my face. I sigh. I couldn't have done it better myself.

* * *

The Wizard is all small talk as he escorts me around the palace. He shows me the ballroom, the dining hall, the gardens, parlors, guestrooms and private suites that someone like me might like to reside in. I have my pick, of course. I am mostly silent, responding only when he asks me a question. He has a wealth of anecdotes about the people who have passed through these rooms over the years. He talks about the balls and parties we could, and undoubtedly will have, now that there is a young girl in the palace. He doesn't pressure me into making a decision; instead he talks about my continued presence here as if it is to be a given. He also tactfully avoids the throne room during our tour.

He does, however, take me to a pen where the now-winged monkeys (or are they Monkeys?) are sequestered. Several of them are gathered around a troth, munching on an assortment of fruit. Others are huddled in the corner, picking at and preening each other. One dangles by its arms from the roof of the enclosure, obviously in play. Aside from the black wings protruding from their backs, they seem to be normal, well-adjusted monkeys.

"Just a clock tick is all it takes," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Just a clock tick is all it takes for them to settle into their new role. They are resilient, Glinda, and so are we."

The following morning, Helene bursts into my room without knocking. I pull the blankets over my face and groan. How did the palace end up with such a tactless and informal servant? Oh, yeah… that's how. Regardless of what she wants to bother me with, it's far too early. I may have slept well on my first night here, but that was out of sheer exhaustion. I spent last night tossing and turning.

"Miss Spoiledskirts," the tactless girl exclaims, not unkindly, "get up! Quick, you have to see this!"

Why even bother arguing? Everyone has an agenda for me, right down to my maid.

She leads me to an empty study across the hallway. The window gives a clear view of the Western horizon. My heart catches in my chest. There against the Emerald City sunrise, written in lines and loops of black smoke, are the words "The Wizard Lies." Elphie did not go far. She could still be here in the city, or at the very least near it. She's so close, yet so far away from me.

For a moment, I feel the desire to run out into the streets as fast as my feet can carry me, to check every roadside inn and every city alley until I find her again. And then what? Be a fugitive too? That is, if I don't lead the guards straight to her? That is if I am even so lucky as to find her? Who am I kidding? I sigh and sit down on the bench seat below the window, looking longingly at the sky.

I can hear the household staff shuffling about in the halls. Most of them have abandoned their posts to gawk at and banter about the display. I'm sure the Wizard has already been alerted to it. I wonder if he's shrugging his shoulders or slamming his fist into the arm of a chair.

"It's really something, isn't it?" Helene says, amber eyes fixed on the sky as if the message will disappear any moment. She smiles slightly and I can't tell whether she approves of the sentiment.

"In your experience here, do you think it's true?" I ask her. "Do you think the Wizard lies?"

She shrugs. "Everybody lies, be they Wizard or street pimp. We might talk of high and noble things, but when it comes down to it, everybody is in it for themselves. You're not going to tell his Ozness I said that, are you? Rat me out?" she asks.

"I have no reason," I say.

Morrible steps out onto the palace's most prominent balcony in what appears to be her night slip. Eek. She studies the words in the sky, then raises her arms above her head. She closes her eyes, lips speaking what is undoubtedly a spell. Dark clouds appear on the skyline, twisting and writhing as lightning spikes between them. They swell, quickly swallowing Elphie's message, then recede back into the pale dawn. She opens her eyes and without fanfare walks back into the palace.

"Show's over," Helene sighs.

* * *

The Wizard has me summoned to his office later that day. He is sitting at his desk surrounded by paperwork. When I enter, he looks up over the top of his reading glasses and smiles. "Glinda, why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?" he asks.

Oh, right. Fiyero. What does he want with Fiyero?

"A young man showed up at the palace this morning, demanding to see you. Some Vinkus prince who thought he could command _my _officers. We had to send him away, of course. But he left a letter for you." The Wizard hands me an envelope, then leans back in his chair. "I have to admit, his persistence in trying to see you was admirable. I am sure there's a position open somewhere in the palace for a dedicated young lad such as him. I wouldn't want the two of you to have to be apart, after all."

I'm sure this is meant to sweeten the deal, but I gulp. The last thing I want is to bring another person that I care about into this.

"Glinda, you may pen him a response. I'll have to read it first of course, but you should let him know you are okay. And let him know of the opportunities I've mentioned to you."

When I am back in my room, I open the envelope.

_Galinda,_ the letter reads. Ugh! Doesn't he listen? It's Glinda now!

_I know they'll read this, but I don't care! I know there's something funny going on! I waited at the station for you and Elphie _- since when does he call her by her nickname? - _yesterday. When I realized you weren't on the train, I was nervous. Then Boq showed me the newspaper. It's disgusting! They're calling her a wicked witch! I don't believe a single thing they've said about her attacking the Wizard or cursing his monkeys. And I am so worried for her. I need to know that she is safe. I need to know that you are safe too, even though the guards said you're being treated as an honored guest. I will be back tomorrow at the same time. Glinda, please convince the Wizard to let me see you. Please explain this all to me._

_Fiyero_

I want to send him a message begging him to go back to Shiz, forget this ever happened, and forget about me. But since anything I write will be read, I write nothing at all. The guards turn him away at the gates the next day, and the day after that.

Speaking of writing, though, Elphie has been doing quite a bit of it. Over the next several days, "The Wizard Lies" appears in the skies above Shiz, Dixxi House and Settica. Morrible goes away in a carriage to assess to the damage, and her absence is like a breath of fresh air. Sometimes I look out the window of my room hoping to see a message just for me, but it never comes. I like to pretend that if it did, it would say "Remember."

I think I have made my choice.

* * *

It is late morning on a Saturday, one week since Elphaba fled the Emerald City, and citizens have traveled from every corner of Oz to the Wizard's palace in order to hear his address. The rich, the poor, the farmers and the aristocracy have gathered on the lawn below the balcony. I cannot make out the faces in the crowd, but I know that most of Shiz University is out there. Pfannee, Shenshen, Milla, Boq, Avaric… Fiyero, who I still have not spoken to. So are my parents. They don't know why they have been summoned; I couldn't tell them anything in my letter. But it came in a green envelope bearing the Wizard's official seal and they are being put up in the Emerald Marquise.

The day is sunny and uncharacteristically mild for this time of year. It is completely windless, which will be important in a few minutes. A band at the edge of the lawn begins to play our National Anthem. Several heavily decorated Gale Force officers make their way from the waiting room to the platform, fanning out around its edges. Their presence is met with a great deal of cheering and applause. They stand stoic with their riffles and bayonets. Madame Morrible walks to the front of the balcony, arm-in-arm with the captain of the Gale Force: a stern-looking man in his early seventies. She waves to the mass of onlookers, allowing the cheering to continue for a moment.

I'm really going to do this. I can't back down now.

"Citizens of Oz," the Wizard's voice booms over an elaborate system of amplification. Absolute silence falls over the crowd. Even though he will remain hidden, his true form unknown to all, it is a rare opportunity for the common man to even hear his voice.

"The past several decades have been a time of peace. Under my rule, we have all been safe, unhampered and untried by malevolent forces. Now, there is a new danger afoot. We have an enemy more powerful than we've ever faced. I know many of you are afraid and wondering what this means for our great nation. The Wicked Witch is spreading rumors and lies about me. She hopes to turn us against one another, for we are weaker apart than we are together. Even now, there may be seeds of doubt in your hearts. You may wonder, is the Wizard really as powerful as he says? Can he truly protect us from anything?

My People, I may be Great and Powerful, but one of the marks of greatness is the wisdom to realize when one needs assistance. The darkness may frighten us, but darkness cannot exist without light, lies cannot exist without truth and ugliness cannot exist without an equal beauty. I have invited you all here today to witness the light of good: a goodness which will help us vanquish the evil of the Witch. You are familiar with my new press secretary, Madame Morrible?"

The crowd begins to applaud. Morrible takes a step forward, raising an arm to stop them, "Please," she says, her voice also amplified, "I am flattered but I am not the beauty or the light of which his Ozness speaks. As many of you know, before coming here, I had a long and distinguished career at Shiz University. For the past ten years I have served as Headmistress, but before that, I was a humble professor. My specialty was Sorcery. Once I became headmistress, I continued to take interest in students who displayed exceptional abilities in the Magical Arts, taking them under my wing and nurturing their talents.

In all my years of teaching, I have never met a talent so powerful as the one I was introduced to this fall: a girl in her first year with an aura of goodness that hopelessly charmed everyone she came in contact with. Though it pains me to admit, the scope of her powers is far beyond my own. Fortunately, I had the knowledge and experience to help her hone her abilities. In just a few short months, when I believed that she was ready, I sent word to his Ozness and he summoned her here to the palace for an audience.

Little did my student know, she was being followed by the one person who failed to be captivated by her: a vile girl with inhumanly green skin. The green girl also aspired to study sorcery with me, you see. I turned her down because of her evil nature. In the throne room just one week ago, my student knelt before the Wizard and he asked her to join him. That was when the Wicked Witch burst out from hiding. She was indignant that my student was being recognized by the Wizard instead of her. So indignant, in fact, that she made an attempt on his Ozness's life with her magic." There are gasps all around.

"As powerful as the Wizard is, he was not anticipating the attack, and he might very well be dead now if my student hadn't stepped up to save him with her own powers. The Witch fled the palace and she's still out there, no doubt plotting our downfall. But for now our Wizard is safe thanks to one extremely brave girl. I would now like to introduce you to my student, the heroine of Oz. May I present Miss Glinda Upland of Frottica, the Good Witch of the North. Or, more simply, Glinda the Good."

Someone flips a switch and two machines sitting just below eye-level on the balcony start whirring. They are inventions of the Wizard's. They produce a flurry of bubbles, uniform in size, which rise up into the still air. The machines whirl faster and faster until the bubbles become a glimmering wall blocking the view of the balcony entrance. It is then that I step forward, completely shielded from sight. To the untrained eye, it will seem as if I have magically appeared in the bubbling cloud.

I am teetering on a pair of heels which are ludicrously high even for me. I have to steady myself with the heavy, sparkling scepter in my right hand. There is a matching tiara on my head which weighs at least five pounds. I am wearing a massive pink ball gown: pale, crisp pink like cherry blossoms. The color was chosen to make me a focal point against the green of the palace, the soldiers' uniforms and Morrible's dress. Pink goes good with green.

The machines slow down again and the gigantic cloud of bubbles begins to dissipate, finally revealing me. The sun is bright in my eyes and the sound of applause consumes me. Morrible closes her fingers around my arm, leading me forward. Her hand is cold and clammy. "Don't forget to smile," she hisses under her breath.

My eyes focus on the sea of faces, stretched as far as the eye can see. They are all waiting to hear what I have to say. There is a microphone clipped behind my ear; it was tested earlier and I am certain it works, but I am having a bit of difficulty finding my voice.

I wrote my speech myself. Morrible approved it and corrected a few mispronuncifications, but as part of my agreement with the Wizard, I will never have to speak directly about "the Witch." I may have to allude to dark or evil forces, but unkind words and slander will remain the Press Secretary's territory. Through a bit more negotiation, I've also seen that a particular Gale Force officer who frequents the Emerald City's red light district was dismissed from his position and that Helene will be kept on indefinitely as my personal assistant.

Small steps toward good. They're all I can take. Remembering my speech would be a good next step. Now how did it begin?

"People of Oz," I finally manage, curtsying to the crowd, "I am at your service. I appreciate the warm welcome and I couldn't possibly feel any humbler standing here before you."

More applause. Cheers. My heart beats faster in my chest than it ever has in my life. I did not expect to feel so completely and utterly intoxicated by the ovation I am receiving, but it is filling me up like sunlight, like something warm and glowing. The people love me. They believe in me.

I am misleading them.

No, I am bringing them hope. There's nothing wrong with a little hope.

"In these trying times," I say, "it is important to cling to the goodness and virtue within yourselves and not allow it to be eradicatified by doubt and fear. Believe in his Ozness, and good will prevail." Short and sweet; I remembered it all! I wave my scepter gracefully and the bubbles begin again. I will disappear from the balcony the same way I arrived.

As bubbles begin to fill up my vision, I feel a pang of guilt. If her sky-writing is any indication, Elphie has been on the move North. But what if she came back to see this? What if she's out there in the crowd in disguise? She would be ashamed. "I'm sorry," I mouth, and make another curtsey before walking back into the palace to begin my official service to the Wizard.

* * *

_Next Up: Dealing with the matter of Fiyero, and an engagement ball gone horribly wrong._


	10. Seeking Good and Attention

_**AN: **This chapter was revised as of 7/13/11. It now spans two chapters. A lengthier explanation can be found on ch. 11._

**Chapter Ten: Seeking Good and Attention**

As my carriage pulls through the gates of Shiz University, I swallow the lump in my throat and will my hands not to shake.

Spring term is almost over. The sun is blazing full force in the sky and the students have gathered outside on benches and blankets to soak up the hot rays. I have returned to collect my belongings. Or, rather, Galinda Upland's belongings. They are relics from another life. Only two weeks have passed since I left the campus to travel to the Emerald City, but it feels like a lifetime. Everything is exactly as it was, yet nothing is the same.

Students gawk at my carriage as it travels toward Crage Hall, but the Gale Force officers who are flanking me on horseback keep anyone from getting too close. I'm sure I've been the talk of all Shiz since my departure. I draw the curtain shut over my window.

If we never went to the Emerald City to begin with, I'd be out there on the dark blue stone walkways: just another student instead of a national celebrity. I'd be wearing my delicate lavender sundress and fanning myself with my Oznomics textbook, bemoaning the unfairness of classes on such a beautiful day. Once my last class was over, I'd meander down to the Humanities building, where a certain green girl would have just finished with her last class of the day, too.

She'd be wearing a sundress: perhaps my pale cream one. It comes to mid-calf on me, but it would graze the tops of her knees. The shortness of the dress, no doubt, would have been the source of an argument earlier in the morning: an argument I would have won. Elphie would have huffed about the scandal of showing her bony green kneecaps for all of two minutes before wrenching the dress from my hands and pulling it over her head. I might have brushed my bare toes over one such kneecap later, during our lunch, to reward her obedience. She would have shivered a little bit, her mouth twisting oddly as she tried to decide whether it would be appropriate to show pleasure at the gesture.

I did so enjoy pushing Elphie's boundaries and making her squirm, perhaps because I found it profoundly adorable. And for however stubborn she was otherwise, I had the girl eating out of my hand - sometimes literally. No matter how much she protested against my ministrations, she'd bend to my will eventually, even when it made her desperately uncomfortable. Miss-High-And-Mighty-Against-The-Grain was always strangely eager to please me. She received my approval with coy smiles and darkened cheeks. Her uncharacteristical girlishness and utter vulnerability were reserved for my eyes alone, and I was far too narrow-sighted to realize what a gift that was when I still had it.

I was so torn up over my own feelings that, by the time it occurred to me that Elphie returned them, forces greater than us were prying us apart. It was too late: too late to love her the way that she deserved to be loved, like something rare and beautiful.

I pinch the soft skin between my thumb and forefinger hard to bring myself back to present moment.

* * *

My guards stand respectfully outside my former dorm room, giving me some privacy to go through my things. My breath catches in my throat as I look around; it's as if we never left. Our beds are made; there's not a sheet untucked. Nothing is out of place. The books on Elphie's shelves are neatly organized, but they're starting to gather a fine layer of dust.

Her things were apparently of no value to her father or Nessarose, because neither of them has bothered to collect them. The lack of caring on their end disgusts me. I hope I don't cross paths with Nessa on this trip. Morrible has reminded me over and over that everything I do or say is now a reflection on the Wizard, and that is not a responsibility to be taken lightly. The political implications of a situation must always be at the forefront of my mind. Translation: I can not rip Nessa's hair strand-by-strand from her ever-so-grateful head, because she is successor to the Governorship of Munchkinland, and we do not want to compromise our relations.

A small part of me believed that Elphie herself would return for her things, creeping in under the cover of darkness to grab some clothes and a book or two. Perhaps she could have left a note on my dresser telling me that she was all right.

How hard would it be for her to magic-spell me such a letter? She could write a letter that only I could read, bewitch the paper to catch fire in anyone else's hands. Surely it wouldn't be difficult for a girl who can fly on a broom and make wings sprout from the backs of monkeys. Just are few words are all I'd need from her now. Glinda, I'm okay. Glinda, I miss you. Glinda, I loved you.

Obviously not enough. Shut the curtain, Glinda.

I look over my own things and sigh, because there is so much here that I won't be needing. My bed sheets, for starters: they will not fit on the huge, four-poster bed in the suite I'm moving into. Then, there is the matter of my clothes. Several days ago, I was fitted by one of the Emerald City's most prestigious dressmakers, who will be supplying outfits for all of my public engagements. I imagine there will be many more absurdly ruffled, glittering gowns to make me look like the fabled fairy queen herself. Perhaps one of the dresses will be made out of bubbles. Heavy leaden ones.

The wardrobe of a student, however fashionable, has no place in the Wizard's palace. I feel more inclined to hang onto my housecoat, slippers and nightdresses than any of the fashionable outfits I was once so proud to own. However, I pack the cream-colored suit and beret that I wore on my first day of classes: a little bit of nostalgia for a simpler life. Everything else can go to charity. And by charity, I don't mean Pfannee and company. The society girls of Shiz tend to turn their noses up at hand-me-downs, but I'm sure they would descend like vultures on my wardrobe if given the opportunity. I thought briefly about letting them do it, but there are those in Oz who are actually needy.

If one disregards my neglected former roommate, I haven't had much contact with the needy, the poor and the hungry. In fact, I have been brought up to avoid them. But that's all about to change. When I return to the Emerald City, I am departing almost immediately for an official tour of Oz: a charity tour designed by Morrible to elevate the public opinion of the Wizard. It's a counter-measure to Elphie's slander, which has appeared across many skylines. The odd thing about it is that she's been traveling North through Gillikin, but our first stop on the tour will be in Quadling County. We are traveling South to Qhoyre to deliver food and medicine to the struggling population.

I am nervous. I only hope that I can live up to the title that his Ozness has bestowed upon me: Glinda the Good. Learning to be a palace official isn't as easy as putting on a dress. And being truly good is harder still. It is hard to separate one's own selfish motivations and desires from truly benevolent urges. I am more than a little frightened by how much I like the sound of applause.

I've just finished clearing out the drawer in my nightstand. I stow letters from Fiyero, Boq and a handful of other lovelorn boys in my luggage, if only so that I can burn them upon my return to the palace. I've gone through everything that I own, but most of my trunk space is still empty. After a few moments of wavering, I take all the books down from Elphie's shelves and put them in with my things. It's a weird thing to do, but once I've started, I can't stop myself. I take every frock in her closet and every stocking from her dresser. I take her sheets and her pillow, noting the absence of the little glass bottle that was her mother's. She must have taken it with her to the meeting with the Wizard, tucked in her satchel or in one of her boots. I hope that, wherever she is, it brings her comfort.

I hope that if she returns it will be a comfort that I've saved her belongings. I hope she returns. We have so much unfinished business between us.

* * *

Quadling County does not agree with me at all. The humidity is brutal, like nothing I have ever known in the Uplands. My clothes cling to my skin in a most unappealing fashion. No amount of brushing can tame the frizziness that the climate has wrought on my poor hair. I have to pull it up in a tight twist just to keep it from sticking to the back of my neck. I am thankful that Morrible and I have separate carriages. However, the woman seems to be cursed with the smallest bladder in all of Oz, forcing the entire entourage to stop nearly every hour in search of a toilet.

And, with the exception of a few military outposts, the toilets here are nothing more than holes in the ground. I have never - literally, even - stooped quite so low in my life. Not to mention, if I step outside the carriage, I am instantly swarmed by mosquitoes. It takes all my willpower not to itch at the swollen bites which now cover my ankles. I want to just forget this whole mission and go home, but I don't know where home is anymore. Surely it's not Frottica, not Shiz. And it's not the Emerald City either. My trunks sit, unpacked, in my empty suite as we clatter on Southward.

By contrast to my misery, Helene seems thrilled to be here. She stares dreamily out the window at the marshlands, as if she can see rubies glittering beneath the mud. "I'm one-quarter Quadling, you know," she tells me. I think she's making that up. A girl who doesn't remember her parents surely can't know her own heritage.

"Your skin tone screams Gillikinese loud and clear," I say, with a gentle roll of my eyes. Aside from the freckles that litter her cheeks, she is almost as pale as me.

"I have some Quadling mysticism in me, though; I'm sure of it," my maid asserts. "That's why I am so good at reading fortunes. I thought about making a career of it, but Oz's oldest profession pays far better. You should let me read your cards sometime, Miss Prissybloomers. I've got to keep my skills sharp somehow."

"I don't wish to know my fortune," I sigh, leaning back against my upholstered seat. One of the carriage's tires hits a bump in the road, jarring my spine.

"But Miss Glinda, there could be some dark and handsome stranger lurking right around the bend," Helene grins slyly. "And if that were the case, you wouldn't want to be caught looking so Ozdamned miserable."

"There is no one," I say flatly. "And if I'm miserable, it's just because of this infernal mugginess."

"Oh, I have a suspicion that little pittery heart of yours has been very recently broken. Either that, or you've witnessed a bloodbath of epic proportions. I can't think of any other explanation for how numb and dazed you are," she comments.

"When you say that, I hear 'come on now, Glinda; tell your secrets to the palace gossip so that as soon as we return to the Emerald City, I can go spill them all over the scullery,'" I groan.

"I'm not a gossip!" Helene groans, looking offended.

"Then why do I know the torrid affairs of all the laundry maids, even though I've never met any of them myself? Or do you make those up too, quite like your Quadling heritage?" I think I am being mean now. It wasn't my intention. But I'm hot and cranky and the last thing I want is anyone prying into my past, however recent. The wound is still too raw.

Helene reaches over and pats my arm. "I only tell you their torrid affairs when you look like you could use some cheering up. It's not my fault that happens to be all the time."

"So, why Quadling County, of all places?" I ask, trying to change the subject. "I thought we might go North, on the trail of El- the Witch. We might try to calm the nerves of the people she's been terrorizing with her treasonous words in the sky."

"Don't be dense, you're from Frottica. You know that nothing terrorizes the Pertha Hills except for drops in the stock market," she says. She's right. There's very little method to Elphie's madness. The Uplanders are probably rolling their eyes at her displays, if they notice them at all. She hasn't stopped to consider her audience, whereas that seems to be all I do. That is why all of Oz is paying more attention to me than her.

I hope she's found some allies, wherever she is: friends to give her a warm bed at night and rein her in from doing anything too risky or irrational. I also hope that she doesn't get too close to them. I can't imagine anyone else being allowed to hold her at the moment her angry rants dissolve into tears. I can't imagine someone being allowed to see the softness that she hides behind her scowling sarcasm. I don't want anyone to replace what I was to her, however selfish that is.

I know that Quadling Country came up once, in one of her late-night tirades. I wish I could remember what it was she said now. Something about ruby mines exploiting the locals for cheap labor? She wondered why the Wizard didn't intervene, and I said that he must be busy attending to more important things. Apparently, those things included trying to eradicate the rights of Animals.

I am becoming a little bit jaded. Oz will never be a utopia. And we could have worse, as far as leaders go. The Wizard likes making his people happy. In the end, is it possible that he does enough good to balance out the harm? I think that we all do good and harm alike, but the challenge is to do a greater measure of good. I contemplate asking Helene for her opinion, but I decide against it. Most people don't think too much about these things.

Elphie did, but Elphie is gone. Elphie is gone, I mentally repeat, and I can't stop living because of it. If I constantly wonder where she is, what she's doing, or what could have been, I will drive myself mad. I got by just fine before I knew her. I will get by just fine again. But can't deny that I'm different now… I'm so much different than I was when we first met. My former roommate was always pushing my boundaries, too, forcing me to grow. And I've been forced to grow so much more in her absence than I ever thought I was capable of. I never thought it possible that I'd be living this life.

The carriage comes to a halt. "Don't tell me that woman has to piss again," my maid groans dramatically, forehead in her hands.

* * *

It turns out that Morrible called us to a stop so that we can prepare for our grand entrance to Qhoyre. For me, that means pulling off my cotton tunic and slipping into a draping gown of gold lame. Helene smooths down my frizzed hair with some pomade, dabs gold powder on my eyelids, and places a tiara on my head. Then we pull down a ladder from the ceiling of my coach and I climb through a hatch onto the roof. I'm not wearing shoes; they would make this feat impossible. I take a seat on the small bench, railed-in from all sides. Helene passes me my scepter and I give my okay to the driver to start moving again. As we pass through the city limits of Qhoyre, I pull a lever beside my seat to activate the newest bubble machine, which is the reason my carriage takes an extra horse to pull. Bubbles spew forth from every corner of the vehicle, drifting low in the hazy air.

My driver sounds a trumpet to announce our arrival in the city. Despite being weary from the road, we make an impressive procession, decked out in green and gold: from my outfit, to our carriages, to the uniforms of the Gale Force officers who ride alongside us.

According to Morrible, the Quadlings are used to military passing through; the presence of soldiers is necessary to protect shipments of precious rubies bound for the Emerald City. But the locals are obviously not used to bona fide Emerald City-style spectacle. Quadling citizens of all ages gather by the side of the Yellow Brick Road, eyes wide and mouths agape at the sight of our party. Ruddy-skinned, loincloth-clad children leap in the air, trying to catch the bubbles we spread. Giggling, I wave my scepter, as if I am creating more bubbles just for them.

For the first time since I can remember, the smile on my face isn't forced.

Over the course of the next three days, we are graced by a pleasant breeze, courtesy of Morrible. We spend afternoons outside City Hall, handing out parcels of Munchkin corn, flour and dried meats to the needy, which turns out to be almost everyone here. Most of the Quadlings do not speak our tongue, but their smiles of gratitude speak volumes. Many want to repay us with small trinkets of blown glass. Since it would be impolite to decline their gifts, I quickly end up with a collection of tiny orbs that mimic my bubbles in every imaginable color. I'm secretly pleased that I'm given more of these tokens than Morrible is. She does little more than tolerate the locals. She's more interested in schmoozing with the mayor - a man without a Quadling bone in his body.

Just like every leader in the state, he was instituted by the Emerald City, and if the pomp of his mansion is any indication, he reaps more of the profit from the ruby mines than any of the people he governs. It seems as if the Quadling populace is only, perhaps, a notch above Animals in the Wizard's mind: too innocent and childlike to be capable of ruling over themselves. So they starve in rickety huts while the mayor feasts on their labors. I can see where the word "exploited" may have come into play.

I'm surprised by the sympathy I feel for people who are so much different than I am - I never thought I'd like the common folk of any place more so than the aristocracy.

We are required to return early from our tour of Oz.

We are traveling North through Munchkinland when we receive word that a few farmers in the Corn Basket were forced to release their Animal servants by a green-skinned menace. When one farmer refused, she set fire to his field of crops with her powers, destroying his entire yield. The fire nearly spread to his home, where his wife and children were sleeping. In response to the event, the Governor publicly disowned his daughter, denouncing her as a scourge upon Munchkinland and Oz alike.

If we would have continued in our travels, we would soon be dining at his mansion. I am secretly pleased that I do not have to face the man that made Elphaba think she was unworthy of love, because politics-be-damned, I might have speared him in the eye with the heel of my shoe.

The Wizard is concerned that she will launch a sneak attack on our party. I rather hope she does. For one thing, I miss her desperately. Two months without her feels like an eternity. For another, I want to chastise her for endangering the lives of citizens for her cause, all-too-willingly stepping into the role of Monster that was scripted for her by Morrible and company. But as the thought of crossing paths becomes more of a possibility, I am getting terrified. I am in no way scared that my old friend will harm me. I am more concerned that if we meet on the road, her eyes will gaze coldly past me: that she'll see me as one of "them," like Morrible and the Wizard. I am afraid of discovering that I mean nothing to her anymore, or even worse, that she detests me.

And so, I cling to my mantra as we make our way back: I cannot stop living. I cannot stop living.

We return to the Emerald City without incident. There are no sightings of "the Witch." Back in the palace, I realize almost immediately, that throughout the short-lived tour I was riding on a high. It was the exhilaration of seeing new places and meeting new people, all of whom unquestioningly adored me. The crowds flocked without fail to see my carriage arrive in each new city, even if we came in the dead of night or the middle of a rainstorm. There were the gifts of blown glass from the Quadlings, a bouquet of lilies from twin Munchkin girls, tears of joy from an elderly innkeeper who was thrilled to meet me.

Every one of these people knew my name, but I knew as little about them as they'd ever come to know of the real me. Still, their love was the only source of strength that I had. They needed hope; they needed me, and I needed them just as much.

Without constant contact with my people, I've crashed. I feel lethargic and despondent. I don't know what would have happened if Helene wasn't here to look after me. Despite the hardships she endured before coming to work for the Wizard, she is a spirited little thing: not unlike I once was, if less refined. I can't help thinking the poor girl would have liked me better if she knew me then. Instead, she got stuck with Glinda the Resigned.

In any event, I think she is more excited about my new suite than I am; she keeps me busy with endless questions about where I'd like my furniture and what kinds of decorations I prefer. She fusses over my hair and clothes the way I used to fuss about them. And she worries herself far too much over my lack of sleep. She often finds me late at night, still awake in my study, and presses a mug of warm milk into my hands. She takes care of me. I am grateful. She's really the only friend that I have anymore. That is until the day that Fiyero shows up at my door in full Gale Force regalia.

I knew that my old boyfriend never returned to Shiz. At least that's the word I received from Pfannee, who writes faithfully every week to her "dearest friend" at the palace, in hopes that she will receive an invitation to visit. I am not inclined to answer her correspondence. Still, I wondered what became of the boy. I thought it would be foolish for him to give up on his education; I imagined he transferred to yet another school, where he dances on rooftops with another girl. That would be for the best. As far as I am concerned, there is no place for him in my new, complex misery.

And yet, here he is. In my opinion, he looks horridly silly in military clothes. I hope he didn't hide behind a bush, knock out a guard and strip him! Still, I feel a little panicked. He will obviously want some explanation as to why I cut him off, and I'm not sure that I have it in me to explain.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him frantically. "You shouldn't be here!"

"Nice to see you too," Fiyero says dryly before making a formal bow to me. "I just moved into one of the rooms down the hall and it seemed rude not to introduce myself, seeing as we're neighbors. Fiyero Tiggular, 2nd Lieutenant of the Palace Guard at your service. Now, will you be a good neighbor and invite me in for a cup of tea?" I suppose I might join the military, I remembered him saying once back at Shiz, My title will give me instant rank.

"Come in," I sigh, letting him into the front room of my suite and trying not to make eye contact. "Though the tea will have to wait. I gave my maid leave for the afternoon."

Fiyero struts over to the sofa, sitting down and kicking his feet up on the small serving table. I notice that he now has the muscles to go with his uniform. I might have appreciated that once. Now, I couldn't care less. "Too dainty to touch a stove, are you?" he asks. "You're just as I remember you. And how quickly you've forgotten me." He leans back far too casually.

"I didn't want you to get involved," I say, glowering in his direction. I finally meet his eyes, which have a new hardness in them, just like his biceps. But then again, I'm sure that my eyes do too. "I fought to keep you away! But I see you managed to get involved without my help. Congratu-fucking-lotions, genius."

"Galinda, you wound me," he says sarcastically, placing a hand over his chest. Since when did he become Elphaba? I wonder.

"It's Glinda now," I correct him.

"Right, Glinda the Good," he quips sorely, putting a finger to his chin in an expression of thoughtfulness. "You know, I've been trying to piece this whole thing together since you and Elphaba left Shiz and it doesn't make sense. She's an evil menace to society; you're the light and hope of the Ozian people. Not to mention, a you're a powerful Sorceress whose talents have somehow, suddenly, moved far beyond levitating stones. I would like to know, what happened?" His voice goes softer. "What happened to the three of us?"

"What didn't happen?" I sigh, going to lock the door then sitting down beside him. The damage is done. Fiyero has managed to work his way, without my consent, into the tangled web of palace life and servitude. He deserves to know the truth. Elphie was his friend too. So I tell him.

Well, I tell him the edited version: the one without the kissing and the awkward morning after. I suppose I could have told him about that too, since there is nothing left between us to risk. But it is a moot point now that Elphie is lost to me, and I'd rather not go through the pain of dredging up those memories.

"Hmm," he says, folding his arms across his chest when I finish my story. "I would have gotten on the broom. But I suppose you had ties. For instance, your shoes. Because you certainly didn't stay for me, or even your friends back at Shiz." His face clenches with disgust as he spits the words at me: a response which confirms that my own words sound just as hollow and emotionless as they feel on my tongue. I feel the sting of his anger like a slap.

"Fiyero!" I mean to shout, but it comes out more like a whimper. "You wound me! Really, what help would I have been to Elphie? You know I can't do any real magic! I would have only slowed her down. I'm of better use here, where at least I can make people happy. And I told you, I could stay in the palace or lose my memories. That wasn't much of a choice. You had a choice, so tell me why you chose this."

"I chose this because… for once, maybe I wanted to do something instead of standing idly by," he answers, some of the coldness finally leaving his voice. "Elphaba is making a difference, and I want to make a difference too. I want to protect her. I will see that if she ever sets foot in this palace, no harm will come to her. And as crazy as it sounds, I want to protect you, too. I don't trust the Wizard or Morrible. If they turned on Elphie, who knows when they'll turn on you…"

"I don't need protecting," I reply, once again lacking the conviction that I want to convey.

And then I see that we are both wounded, more by our circumstances than by each other. It is silly for us to fight about it. I reach out for his hand and take it in mine. "Friends?" he asks. I nod and lay my head against his chest.

* * *

I'm really not supposed to be leaving the palace unescorted, but that doesn't stop me. I understand that I'm a prime target for kidnapping or what have you, but I can disguise myself and slip away into the city unnoticed. For as much as I like my adoring people, sometimes I adore my solitude.

I borrow plain clothes from Helene, wrap my hair up in an ugly floral scarf, put Emerald sunglasses over my eyes and voila! I'm just another badly-dressed tourist. I guess I really am still more of a tourist here than a resident. I've been roaming the streets aimlessly with the architecture book that Elphie bought for me, visiting every building listed within its pages.

And I've found the most scandalaciously fantastical little bookstore! Yes, you've heard me right. I've taken to reading as of late. Perhaps some of this is my former roommate's influence, but my tastes still differ drastically from hers. (I've tried to read her books; I really have, but they're just so boring!)

Warrior of Vinkus sits on a shelf in my study gathering dust, its cover not cracked since my days at Shiz. But it is now surrounded by other romances. Different romances. There are stories of schoolgirls with forbidden passions for their female professors; ladies spellbound by street performers who dress as men; disreputable relations between the sisters in a mauntery. I devour these kinds of stories with a passion. In some ways, it's like picking at a scab, reminding myself of what could have been. But it's also a stand-in for the romance that my life is decidedly lacking in.

One day, Helene notices the books. "So that's the secret," she says as she wipes down the bookshelf with a dust cloth. "Miss Glinda's heart was broken by a girl. I'm a little bit surprised; you didn't strike me as the type, and I did know plenty of that type on the streets… But I guess it makes sense."

I'm sure I've turned as red as red can be. "It's not like that!" I protest feebly. I'm sure I have all of two hours before the news reaches all points East of the Vinkus.

Helene smiles at me. "My dear," she says, "I know you think me a gossip, but I assure you that I can have some discretion. I owe you my discretion, after everything you've done for me. I promise, I don't judge you. I've seen it all out there, and a passion for one's own gender is pretty tame, all things considered."

"Thank you," I say softly.

"You know, there's a girl that works in the kitchen that you might like to meet," Helene smiles slyly. "She's a bit boyish, but very pretty. And I've heard, quite skilled with her tongue…"

"Helene, I don't want to meet anyone," I said, firmly, blushing at the later part of the comment.

"Well, I won't have you languishing around in this funk forever," she chides. "This is the first time I've seen any color in your cheeks in a while. A little bit of real-life romance would be good for you. Or at least some sex. You can pay for anything in this city, including discretion."

"Me, pay for sex?" I fake a laugh, tossing back my hair. "I could get it easily if I wanted it. The fact of the matter is, I don't. I prefer to keep things in the imaginatory realm."

Helene shrugs off my comment. I am dead serious about not wanting to meet anyone, though. The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. I can't let another girl in; not after Elphie. I can't let anyone hurt me that much again. I don't know if there's anything even left of me to hurt. I don't know if my heart can be crumbled into smaller pieces than it already has. I'm terrified to find out.

But Helene is nothing if not persistent, and in the weeks that follow, a variety of attractive young ladies are paraded in front of me for totally arbitrary reasons.

* * *

"I am at my wits end with you!" I shout in disgust at my maid, after she returns from escorting the latest girl out of the palace: a friend who she invited over for afternoon tea without my permission. A friend who was very obviously a prostitute. She wore a short dress and kept licking her lips when she looked at me. I had to play dumb to the whole display. Talk about awkward!

"Was she perhaps too masculine for you, Glinda? You really need to let me know what your type is…"

"Get out!" I shout at Helene, shoving her toward the door. "I'm serious; get out!"

"I don't know why you're so mad, My Lady. I'm just trying to help…" she starts saying, but I slam the door behind her before she can continue. Ten minutes later, I am still in a huff when I hear a knock at the door. I pull it open, ready to take a swing at my maid, but it's Fiyero that greets me instead.

"Galinda!" he says breathlessly, as if he ran all the way to my suite.

"Glinda!" I correct him. I'm really in no mood for this.

"Yes… right! I came here as fast as I could to tell you! There's been another report! Elphaba… She hit another farm. It was her biggest one yet. More than forty Animals are free now… I don't know what she did to the farmhands, but two of them had to be hospitalized from shock! They're saying they'll need therapy… Galinda, isn't it fantastic?"

Yes. It is totally Ozdamned fantastic to have what I lost thrown in my face when I'm already in the foulest mood imaginable.

"Ga- umm, Glin…da? Is something wrong?" Fiyero asks.

"I don't want to talk about Elphie," I growl.

"But I thought… I know you've been worried…"

I don't know what it is that provokes me to wrap my arms around Fiyero's neck, or what exactly makes me push him back against the wall, pressing my mouth to his. He lets out a surprised gasp as I kiss him, but he kisses back with equal fervor.

I want nothing more in this moment than to banish Elphie from my mind. I want to banish all thoughts of soft skin, gentle green hands and slender curves. I want to forget the tenderness with which she kissed me. Fiyero is still far more rough with his mouth; right now that is a comfort. His scent and his taste are familiar. I can't move forward, but I can move backward. I'm moving backward at blinding speed.

And just like when I gave Fiyero my virginity at Shiz, it is me that is initiating everything. It is me that drags him over to the couch and begins to remove his clothes. It is me that drapes myself over his muscular body, hoping to melt into it and disappear. Just as our relationship ended, without any official discussion or proclamation, it begins again.

Fiyero said he came to the palace because he wanted to protect me. Perhaps, he can protect me from myself. Perhaps he can protect me from these feelings so strong that they are threatening to tear me apart.


	11. When Nightmares Become Reality

_**AN (VERY IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ!):**__ To all who have been following this story up to this point, this isn't a new chapter, per se. I was unhappy with Chapter 10, so I revised it and ended up splitting it into two chapters, now with twice as much emotion and character development. I'm sure I seem like a gianormous tease for promising a Gelphie reunion, disappearing for two months, and returning only to post a lengthier version of what you've read previously. In addition to my writing struggles, I blame mandatory overtime at work and a wisdom tooth which decided to make my life miserable. Now, with gratuitous thanks to my wonderful, honest and patient beta (and friend!) DM92, Unadulterated Something is back on track. I promise new Gelphielicious content soon. In the meantime, try to enjoy a more contemplative Glinda in Chapter 10 and this one. _

**Chapter Eleven: When Nightmares Become Reality**

_I am back in Qhoyre. The sun has set, but rather than returning to the Mayor's home for dinner, Helene and I sneak off to a party. We sit outdoors with a group of Quadlings on a circle of hay bales. There is a small clay pot where a tiny fire crackles, protected from the marshy ground. Everyone is speaking in Qua'ti. I can't understand a lick of conversation, but the smiles around me are mirthful and welcoming. A woman offers us drinks from a horn_. _Following my maid's lead, I take a swig of the liquid, which is thick and bitter on my tongue. A man is telling a story, gesturing wildly with his hands. The crowd pays rapt attention, laughing every so often at his words._

_A teenaged boy to my right passes me a long-handled pipe. I pass it along to my maid without smoking. I don't know what is in it, and I figure I am safer with the drink, which keeps coming my way via the horn. I feel my body starting to relax under the effects of the alcohol. The sights and sounds of the party become a blur. I stretch out, laying back against the hay bale. The Quadling boy prods my upper arm, but I ignore him. _

_I am looking at the stars, which are brighter tonight than I have ever seen them. They seem to be moving, drifting slowly to the West like a swarm of fireflies. They rearrange against the backdrop of black, forming sharp white lines of light. The stars paint a picture for me: the crude shape of a mouth, a nose, and eyes with angry slanted brows. It's the same face that Elphie made from the tape that I once used to divide our dorm room. So long I have waited for a sign from her. I wonder if this is it._

_What does it mean? Is it disappointment; disapproval? I reach out toward the stars, trying to reach for her, but they swirl again and the face disappears. The air temperature is dropping rapidly. I shiver, sitting up. The party around me is gone. I am alone. The landscape has changed; the Quadling marsh has been replaced with woodlands. Distressed, I spring to my feet, calling out for Helene. I receive no answer; just eerie silence. There's no hooting of owls or scuttling of animals through the underbrush._

_Distressed, I leap to my feet and begin to walk briskly in the direction in which I am sure that the Mayor's mansion lies. The branches of trees, bare and skeletal, jut out from the thick fog like fingers, all pointing at me accusingly. After several minutes of walking, there is still nothing that I recognize. I stop to catch my breath and calm my racing heart. I feel something settle on my shoulder and a horrid chill racks through me._

"_It's only me, my sweet," a familiar voice purrs low against my ear, instantly soothing my fear. I feel a slender pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind and I relax, leaning back into the warm body that has settled against mine. My heartbeat begins to slow. I can feel her chest rise and fall, slow and steady. I can feel her breath on the back of my neck._

"_You are so very cold, Glinda," she says, withdrawing her arms with a lingering caress over the fabric of my summer dress. "Come to the fire."_

_Green fingers wrap gently around my wrist, drawing me in an unknown direction. We walk for a few moments before I can hear the welcome crackle of flame. She sits me down on a stump and in the red firelight I finally see her face: the face I have missed so terribly much. I brush my hand over her cheek and thread my fingers in her hair._

_Then, she reaches out, slowly undoing the buttons on the front of my gown. I make a soft, encouraging whimper, wanting more of her touch. I reach over to unclasp her dress and the fabric falls away beneath my hands. My eyes trail down her throat to - I gasp._

_The skin has been torn away from the left side of her body, stripped clear from her collarbone to her ribs, which jut out like bare branches from raw, bloody muscle. _

"_Elphie, no!" I cry. Slowly, she slides my dress down to my hips, ignorant of my horror._

"_You are still whole," she says, looking over my body with a bitterness that wrenches my heart._

* * *

I jolt up in bed, head spinning. I press my palm against my chest and try to take slow, deep breaths. My pulse is hammering in my temples. _It's not real, _I tell myself, trying to focus on my breathing. I am safe in the palace. But it seems as if the image of a mangled Elphaba has been seared on the inside of my eyelids and I cannot blink it away. My eyes start to water. I don't want to cry! It's been four years since she left me. I don't want to shed anymore tears.

I dab at my eyes with the sleeve of my nightdress. I am fine during the day, going about my duties and playing my part. The Wizard and Morrible have certainly kept me busy. But at night the dreams break me down. The dreams make me vulnerable. The gentle green girl I once shared a room with, the Wicked Witch of the West, haunts every moment of my slumber.

This nightmare is a new one, which makes it all the worse. Normally, I stand idly by as she is beaten and dismembered by the Gale Force, unable to bring myself to do anything to protect her. In a few of the dreams, they've poured water on her and she's melted into a steaming puddle of green.

That's the popular opinion now: that water will destroy her. It's because of our spectacle at the fountain before our meeting with the Wizard. When the onlookers realized they had actually seen the Wicked Witch, rumor spread fast. And I've said nothing to contradict it. People believe what they want, and I'd rather some ignorant villager think that water is their first line of defense than a knife or a gun. Let the rumor protect her.

As for me, I can't stop living. It was my personal mantra in the first several weeks after she left, when the wound was still fresh. I repeat it to myself even now, when the scar throbs with phantom pain. Elphie and I parted ways long ago. That chapter of my life is closed. It simply can't be helped. She faces constant danger, but she chose her reality just as I chose mine. There was no stopping her; no convincing her otherwise.

After a year or so, I gave up on all hope of hearing from her. She obviously moved on. I have tried to as well, but part of me is stuck firmly in the past. Even now when I address the people, I unconsciously scan the crowd for a familiar flash of green beneath a hood or the brim of a hat. I imagine that Elphie is out there undercover, watching me and listening to my words. I automatically stand up a little bit straighter, imagining that I can feel her eyes. I imagine her looking in my windows, creeping just outside the periphery of my vision, watching over me to make sure that I'm okay. Then I remind myself that it is not becoming for a woman of twenty-two to have an imaginary friend.

I also remind myself that she wouldn't be proud of who I've become.

Frankly, I'm sick and tired of pining. I'm sick and tired of missing her. I'm sick and tired of these unadulterated longings that course though me, as real as the terror I feel in my nightmares. I made my choice. I had my reasons and I stand by them. To follow her would have been insanity. But Oz, how I miss her sometimes. And what I wouldn't give to touch that warm green skin again, to hold that slender body, with all its secret hurts and desires, against my own. There's no one in Oz quite like her.

I can't stop living. I can't stop living. I can't stop living.

Fiyero snores softly beside me, oblivious to my inner turmoil. Thankfully, I did not wake him. I slowly settle myself back down into the blanket. I used to sleep with Elphie's clothing in my bed to comfort me during the night. It was only once he started sharing my bed and caught me cuddled up with a dress that I stopped.

"She's not dead, Galinda," he said, forgetting my name as usual. "She's out there doing some actual good. Be proud of her, and stop acting like a widow in mourning!"

He has a different way of seeing things. He loves me though, in his own way.

If he didn't love me, he wouldn't have fought his way back into my life after I shut him out.

Even though I have willed myself not to dwell on unpleasantaries any longer, I still can't seem to get back to sleep. I need to sleep. I have breakfast with the Emerald City Arts Society in the morning, followed by a meeting with the Wizard and his advisors, then a ribbon cutting at a new theatre... I toss and turn in bed, tangling myself in the blankets and uncovering Fiyero without meaning to. He groans in protest and yanks them back.

"What's going on, dear?" he asks sleepily after a moment. He never calls me by my name anymore, because he always slips and says "Galinda."

"Nothing," I mumble in response.

"Another nightmare?" he asks. I don't answer. I really don't feel like being talked down to. But instead of talking down to me, he puts an arm around me and pulls me close.

"Don't worry, Ga-dear, I'm sure she's safe," he mutters, kissing my cheek. That's it: no sarcastic quip about poor spoiled Glinda and her nightmares. No attempts at urging me to run away with him again.

"Fiyero?" I ask, not really knowing what I intend to say next but wanting to talk nonetheless. Unfortunately, he is already soundly asleep like before.

I look at my prince, who has climbed the ranks to Captain of the Palace Guard. I follow the lines of his face with my eyes: the bridge of his nose, his angular chin, his short eyelashes and dark brows. Any girl would be happy to have him, yet he's mine: I who do not deserve him, yet can't seem to give him up. The fact is, we've been through so much together.

I may never be capable of loving passionately: not now, after the heartbreak I've experienced. But it's better to be with someone I do genuinely care for than to be alone. Aside from Fiyero, there is only one other person I could ever see myself wanting to be with. That person is not here, and she is not coming back. For all his faults, at least Fiyero stuck with me.

This has been a difficult summer in Oz. Munchkinland is suffering from a drought and most of the country is feeling the effects. The Wizard can frequently be found pacing back and forth in his study. "I wish Elphaba would do something big right now," he told me yesterday, "It would take the pressure off of me." But she hasn't been seen in a while. Perhaps, that's why the nightmares have been so bad. At least when she makes her presence known, I know that she's still alive. And I can rest easier for a little bit.

The people of Oz don't need another thing to scare them, though. What they need is some hope: a pleasant distraction. My eyes grow wide in the darkness as the thought occurs to me. A wedding would be a great distraction! _Fiyero and I are going to be married_, I told Elphie, on the night of the Ozdust. Maybe this is the time. I start mulling it over in my head: the dress, the flowers, the music, the guest list. I can't help but smile in spite of myself. I've always loved a party.

And before an actual wedding, there has to be an engagement party, with its own flowers and music and dress…

Maybe I need the distraction just as much as my people.

* * *

My dress is bothering me. It's really absurd, but I am bothered by the fact that it only has one sleeve. Asymmetry is all the rage in Oz right now, and it's a really pretty dress. But one of my arms is covered and the other is naked. I'm smiling and curtseying to my guests; I'm accepting congratulotions and making small talk, but I can't stop thinking about the dress. Who designed this ridiculous thing?

I announced my engagement this morning from a platform in the city's main square, rather than my usual balcony. It makes the people happier when they can see me up close. My time among the common people of Oz has given me a great deal of respect for them, and I wish that they made up my present company. But my formal Engagement Ball is an exclusive affair, so I am surrounded by a crowd of politicians and dignitaries, celebrities and the up-and-coming of the Emerald City. Basically, I detest everyone here.

There are strings of twinkling blue lights strung through the ballroom: bubble lights, they call them. They are an homage to what has become a theme of mine. A few months ago, the Wizard introduced me to a new invention of his: a mechanized bubble which allows me to make even showier introductions than before.

We introduced the bubble this evening. I glided down from the ballroom ceiling in it to meet my Intended on the dance floor as a full orchestra played. Everyone applauded and cheered: they thought it was magic, of course. It was like something from one of my childhood fantasies. That is until the first dance ended and I was obligated to twirl on the arms of old men who smell like mothballs and leer at my chest or chat incessantly about their latest business ventures. Several times, I resisted the impulse to "accidentally" step on feet.

"If Ambassador Valen comes near me again with his horrendific breath, I can't be responsible for where my heels end up," I tell Fiyero as we are finally permitted to begin our second dance together. He doesn't even respond as he starts leading me across the floor. "Are you sure you aren't mad at me?" I ask for what may be the sixth time tonight, watching his face for signs of emotion, but he doesn't give me anything to go on. Understandably, our engagement came as a bit of a shock to him.

I expected him to be happier though. I expected me to be happier, too.

"I'm not mad at you," he says, leaning in so that only I can hear him. "It has nothing to do with our engagement. It's just Morrible. I can't help but think that she uses every single public appearance as an opportunity to denounce Elphaba. Even when it's completely unrelated."

"I don't like it either," I sigh, resting my head on his shoulder. "It's just one of those inevitable facts. I have my role. Morrible has hers." I've become numb to Morrible's speeches. Shutting down is the only way to get through them.

"It's not inevitable," he says, close to my ear as we sway. "Let's leave here tonight and join the resistance. I know they're out there; we just have to find them. And then we'll find Elphie and it will be the three of us together again, just like the old days."

"Don't glamorize it, Fiyero. It wouldn't be like the old days. You and I would be fugitives. We'd be hiding out in peoples' attics and basements, in constant fear for our lives. It's not like we even have magic to help us like she does. What kind of a life is that?"

"It's a life with meaning, instead of this empty existence. Admit it; you're not happy," Fiyero says.

"I'm as happy as I could be given the circumstances. Remember that night on the rooftop of the Tavern in Shiz when you said that Oz was ours? It's ours right now, right here. Can't you see that? It's everything we ever could have wanted. The stars have even come down from the sky for us," I say, gesturing to the bubble lights.

"Yet you still have those nightmares," he says as the music ends. So there it is, thrown back in my face by him as always. After the last dream, when he tried to be comforting, I thought that maybe things would be different.

"Excuse me just a clock tick," I say with as much restraint as I can muster, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands.

I might look perfectly composed to any outsider, but this night is not going well, and I need a nice dry wine to help me through it. Fiyero has talked about running away before. He gets on these kicks; one time he even packed up all our things. We had quite the fight after that. But he always snaps out of it after a few days. He always sees that it's better for us to stay here. This is just very bad timing for one of his… episodes. I'm so frustrated, though. He needs to stop taking low blows at me. We can't keep living like this if we are to be married!

"Guards! Guards!" the Wizard's voice booms over the intercom as I'm pouring my glass. As if things could get any worse! Wineglass in hand, I turn to see Fiyero off and running through the crowd toward the throne room: the source of the commotion. It's probably something stupid. Perhaps a drunken guest is trying to climb the mechanical head. Or Chistery is loose… again. The last time he made a royal mess of the palace pantry.

Whatever it is, the interruption is totally unfair, especially now that I have a bone to pick with my fiancé. I turn to the revelers, who have momentarily ceased their revelmentations in concern of what may be happening. "His Ozness may need my… powers," I say and start walking toward the throne room as fast as my outfit allows. It's only then that I realize that I'm being foolish. Reckless. What if the threat is real? Well, who fucking cares? As I rush through the door, I almost collide with something green.

It can't be. But it is. Of all the possible scenarios. It's her.

Why here? Why now? Is this another nightmare? I feel like my heart has stopped in my chest and time is frozen as she turns to look at me, dark eyes wide. She looks a fright. The lustrous raven hair I remember is dull and matted. Her dress is in tatters: frayed at every edge, shredded and haphazardly mended back together by someone who has no eye for needlecraft. Her face is smudged with dirt and there are brambles stuck to the brim of her hat: the same stupid hat I gave her years ago. She has no obvious injuries, and she doesn't appear to be any thinner than she was at Shiz, if that could actually be considered a comfort.

But she looks haunted. And she looks at me in my ornate ball gown and sparkling tiara as if I'm the ghost here.

I need to know that she's real; that I won't pass right through her. I fling myself into her arms. She tenses for a heartbeat then she's there to meet me, holding me as tightly as ever. No matter what she thinks of my life, she doesn't hate me. Thank Oz!

"Thank Oz you're alive," I say, nuzzling my cheek against hers. She smells like she's been sleeping in a barn, but I don't loosen my grip. I don't ever want to let her go. I want to wash and comb through her hair. I want to dress her in clean clothes and give her a hot meal. I want to sleep in her arms again. I want to tell her everything on my mind and heart. But it isn't safe for her to be here.

"You shouldn't have come," I say, realizing the danger she's in. Reluctantly, I release her. She needs to go before anything happens. Where is Fiyero? He can get her out safely.

Without a word, my long-lost friend points a green finger to the other side of the room, where my fiancé is aiming his rifle at the Wizard. The sight makes the breath catch in my throat and I am more afraid than I've been in any nightmare. Because this is reality. When the other guards arrive, they'll shoot Fiyero on sight. He's sentencing himself to death!

"Fiyero!" I cry, "What are you doing? Have you misplaced your mind?"

"Glinda!" he shouts, never taking his eyes off the cowering Wizard, "Please just get back to the ball!"

There's no way I can do that, not with Fiyero and Elphie both in danger. Stupid Elphie for coming back. Stupid Fiyero for being so rash. I need to do something. I run to the Wizard's side, staring straight down the barrel of Fiyero's gun. I know he will not fire it. Not with me standing here. Fiyero's jaw clenches. He will not lower the rifle.

I look at my employer, the man who has elevated me to greatness and done so much for me. The man, who at this moment, is in direct opposition of the two people I love the most. And he's just as cowardly as ever. He takes my arm, shaking with fear. "Good girl, Glinda, stall them," he whispers. "Stall them until the rest of the guards come." That's the last thing I want to do.

"Your Ozness, please, he means no disrespectmentation…" I beg, "We all went to school together."

"Go," I mouth to Fiyero, who is slowly backing away, rifle raised. Elphie is standing by the doorway, looking totally shocked. She needs to run, now, while she has the chance. I shoot her a pleading look.

"I'm going with her," Fiyero says. It's what I expected him to do; it's the only way he'll be safe now. But he looks at me as if he's finally won a battle. His expression stings like a slap. Elphie, on the other hand, looks shocked and scared. He practically has to drag her out the door. For one last, painful moment, her dark eyes meet mine. There is so much I wanted to tell her, and now I'll never get to do it. Ozdamnit, I am losing them both!

Once they disappear from my view, I crumble to the floor.

* * *

It's only now that the chaos is over that I'm hit by the full implications of what happened. It feels like being kicked in the ribs and having the wind knocked out of me. It hurts to breathe. Fiyero got what he wanted: his little fantasy of running away. I told him to go, but he didn't exactly have my blessing. It was a matter of necessity. Now I'm suffocating on questions unanswered. Does he love her? And more importantly, does she love him? Will they make a life together without me? Has anyone ever really loved me? Was I always just in the way? I can't stop living. I've been telling myself that for years. But it seems that I have stopped. I am frozen in time. Everyone is living but me.

"Leave!" I bark at Helene, who has just escorted me back to my room. She doesn't deserve this treatment, but I can't have her hovering and fussing about. I don't want to be touched and reassured. I want to break things.

I hear my maid close the door behind her and I fling myself onto my bed, pounding on the mattress with my fists. I pull a pillow to my face and scream into it. I tear my sheets from the mattress, twisting myself up in them. Now that I've started making a mess, I can't stop. I go to my wardrobe, yank the clothes from the hangers and toss them across the room. Then I start on my shoes.

_You had ties,_ Fiyero's voice says mockingly in my mind, _for instance your shoes._ I cast them every which way, and when there are none left to throw, I wrench the ones I am wearing from my feet. I send them hurling into the full-length mirror on the opposite side of my bed, which shatters on impact. Pieces of glass fall everywhere. I am tired of this image of perfection. I am tired of this empty shell.

Why have I stayed so long? I could have left with Elphie all those years ago. I could have left with Fiyero a month ago when he packed all our things. Who did I do this all for? My parents, who I never see? My friends, who I have long-since turned away from? Or was it all for the girl in the mirror all along? Galinda? Glinda? Who am I?

I pull the engagement ring from my finger: an engagement ring that was never given to me. An engagement ring I bought myself. I send that into the mirror, too, knocking loose another shard of glass. Then I slump over, there on the floor, and cry harder than I ever have in my life. I cry until my head is pounding. I cry until I vomit all over the skirt of my engagement party dress.

I cry until there are no tears left.

* * *

I am laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, just as I have every night since Fiyero left with Elphie. I think this is the fourth one, but the days are running together. I haven't left this room. Every day, Helene has tried to come in and every day, I've sent her away. The meals she's set outside the door for me have been left in the hallway to rot. I have no appetite. I haven't been sleeping. I am sure it's only a matter of time until the Wizard sends for a doctor. But I am slowly putting myself back together…

Today, I finally cleaned up the mess I made. I bathed. I picked up my clothes and my shoes. I remade the bed. I put everything back in its appointed place. I even threw away the mirror glass, though I probably wasn't as careful as I should have been. There is a long cut across my left palm which probably should have been seen to. I cleaned the wound as best as I could and wrapped it up.

Perhaps tomorrow, I will rejoin the living. I will put on my clothes, make up my face and stroll the palace. I will make polite, superficial conversation, resigned to my designated role in life. Pretty, superficial Glinda. Devoid of all depth. The perfect puppet, to be folded and put in a drawer alone when the show is over. But I will allow myself one more night of laying here, letting my heart ache and feeling sorry for myself.

Only, it occurs to me, I must have actually fallen asleep at some point. I must still be asleep and dreaming, because I feel the breeze from my closed window. I hear a soft creak. I turn my head to see a dark-clad figure lean a broom against the wall.

"You're not real anyway," I mutter into the darkness, aggravated by her refusal to let me dream in peace.

"Hello to you, too," she says.

"Might as well get this over with," I say, sitting up in bed. "What torments do you have planned for me this time? Chop chop, let's get this done so I can go back to wallowing in my misery…" I say, feeling some of the anger return to my empty shell. My entire body buzzes with the sensation. The anger is bringing me back to life. At the very least, I can release some of my aggression on this dream Elphie, chase her from the corners of my mind so that perhaps my sleep will be restful.

I rise from the bed, stalking toward her on unsteady feet. "The Wicked Witch of the West," I sneer. "I'm so, so terribly afraid. Especially since there's nothing left for you to take from me. You can't break me any more than I've already been broken!" I fling myself toward her, landing the back of my hand against her jaw. She flinches, and so do I, because it hurts. Is it… Is this… real? I don't stop for long enough to find out.

I strike at her chest with my balled fists again and again. "How could you?" I demand. "How could you, after everything?"

But all too quickly, my anger is draining away. I am weakening and she is wrapping her arms around me. With one last burst, I knock the stupid pointy hat from her head: the piece of me she still carries with her. I want her to carry _me _with her. I want to melt into her and disappear. And she's pulling me to her chest; my cheek is resting against her shoulder. Her fingers are in my hair. I could melt. I could disintegrate. I could become nothing, and none of it would matter.

"Feel better?" she asks me.


	12. Captivity

_**AN: **__I want to say a special "thank you" to Good Afternoon and The Songwriter's Ghost for beta-ing this chapter for me, as my regular beta is having some stuff going on in RL right now. (Both GA and TSG have awesome fics, by the way. Check my favorites to see them!) I also want to thank all of you for being so very patient with me. I hope this super-long chapter, along with the Elphie/Glinda reunion, makes up for my leave of absence._

**Chapter Twelve: Captivity**

I am unraveled and incapable of speaking as I let my tears spill freely onto the shredded abomination of Elphie's that at one time may have been considered a dress. I can't believe she's really here. My entire body trembles with the pain of four years of separation and even more so with the fear that I could lose her again. My knuckles turn white and begin to hurt from clutching to the fabric of her dress, but I won't let go. There is so much I need to say but the words will not come. I can only produce incoherent whimpers and sniffles.

Just when I thought I was all cried out.

Elphie's fingers curl against the back of my neck. Her cool cheek presses into my own. She holds me tightly, just as she did in the Shiz train station on the day when I changed my name to Glinda. Her embrace is the only thing that is keeping me solid; I'm sure that without it, my body will turn to water and evaporate completely. I half expect that when my tears finally stop, she'll ask me to come with her to the Emerald City all over again. But we're here in the heart of the city that we once glamorized: the city that brought us closer together than ever then brutally tore us apart.

When she left that day, she took pieces of me with her. When she left with Fiyero, she took even more. If she leaves again, there will be too little of me left to keep on functioning.

"Don't you dare go anywhere," I finally growl between my tears, "Don't you dare, Elphaba. Or, the Wizard be damned, I will hunt you to the ends of Oz myself. I've had nightmares, nightmares where you're tortured in front of me and I am powerless to help you. If you leave me again, I swear to it that I will be the one ordering the torture."

"Always so dramatic," she says, her voice tired but affectionate. She uncurls her fingers to stroke the back of my neck.

"Don't patronize me," I warn, even as I arch my neck slightly, encouraging her touch. I lack the conviction to follow through on my threats, and I'm sure she knows it as well as I do. I feel far too dizzy and weak to do anything but keep hanging onto her. Lack of sleep and food are pressing down upon me and my knees buckle, nearly giving out. Elphie inhales sharply, swiftly wrapping her arms around my ribcage to support me.

"You need to sit down," she says firmly.

"Don't patronize me," I hiss again, "I'm not a child." But I allow her to lead me to the foot of my bed.

Instead of sitting down, I throw myself violently onto the mattress, pulling her down with me so that we are lying, cuddled together in the position we ended up in so often at Shiz. I curl up against her, still clinging ferociously to her tattered dress. Her chest rises and falls against my cheek. For what seems like forever, we don't speak. We just lay together, my ragged breaths eventually falling in time with her slower, even ones. If I turn my head just a bit, I can hear her heart beating. I close my eyes and listen to its steady rhythm. Slowly, my tears begin to taper off.

For the first time since the ill-fated day when we met the Wizard, I'm not Glinda the Good. I'm not a martyr. I'm not plastering on a smile for the benefit of anyone else. I'm just Glinda: raw and honest and exposed. I am the Glinda that I almost, but never quite, was with Fiyero. I'm the Glinda that I've only ever been able to be with her. There are questions to be asked and answers to be sought, but I need these moments just to _be_ in the way that only she has ever allowed me to.

"Glinda," she says, finally breaking the silence, "I never meant to hurt you."

"Hurt…" I respond, dazed by the odd sense of tranquility that has overcome me. Is it some kind of sorcery? "You didn't speak to me. Didn't write to me." I know these words should have more emotion behind them, but I am far too occupied with unfolding and individually caressing each finger of a green hand. Her fingers are rougher now, I note; they are calloused from gripping the handle of her broom. The skin at her knuckles is dry and cracked. Her nails are…chewed? She never bit her nails at Shiz. I frown. This is not an appropriate time to go digging for a file and a bottle of lotion.

"That is not what I am referring to, Glinda," she says irritably. "Avoiding you was for your own good. You deserved to live your life without the complications I would have brought to it. And it would have been in your best interest for me to keep avoiding you. Certainly, you would not be in such a state now."

The coldness in her voice startles me back to the present moment. "And you know this how?" I ask.

"Well, obviously you would still have your… fiancé," she says brusquely. "Your exceedingly stupid fiancé, who it took all of my restraint not to concuss with my broom once we left the palace. The man's brain is quite damaged as it is, though some amnesia might serve him well at this point. Put him off these stupid notions that he has."

"What stupid notions?" I ask.

"Never mind," she sighs.

"Perhaps the notion that he's in love with you?" I ask nervously.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell you," she answers. "I find the whole thing ridiculous and stupid. But what is more ridiculous and stupid is me…"

"Oh no," I whisper, my throat constricting with sudden panic. "You… you love him too." Of course she would; stupid or not, he's braver than I have ever been. He was willing to give up everything for her. I deserve to be forgotten. I deserve to be cast aside by both of them. I wrap my arms around my body, shuddering as I involuntarily rock back and forth.

"Glinda," Elphie says, but her voice seems far away, "Glinda, please, listen to me." I don't want to hear her explanations or her apologies. I don't want to hear that I mean nothing to her. I hold myself even tighter. "Glinda, snap out of it!" she says, voice sharp. And with that, she delivers what is possibly the most measured, gentle slap to the face I have ever received. It doesn't hurt, but it shocks me enough that I stop to look at her. Her eyes are locked on mine, and they glisten with unshed tears. The confident demeanor she displayed just moments ago has all but disappeared as her face sinks in an expression of sadness.

"Like I said," she says weakly, "I should have stayed away. I should have let things happen as they were meant to. It was foolish of me to show up at your engagement party. I should have known it would lead to some sort of catastrophe. Anything I touch is a catastrophe, really." She gives a half-hearted laugh at her own statement, but her voice begins to waver. "I… I told Nessa I was going to free the monkeys. I wanted to…I did. But really, I just wanted to see you…I wanted to see you just one last time before you were completely his. I needed to see if it was true. I needed to say goodbye…" A green hand clasps the fabric of her dress above her heart. "Now look at what my selfish desires have ended up costing you! There's no way I can possibly begin to make amends!"

Now she is staring down at the bed sheets, as if she is too ashamed to look at me. "Elphie?" I say. "Elphie, please come here."

I reach out for her and she flaps her arms in a pitiful effort to keep me from coming close. It doesn't take much strength (which is fortunate, because I don't have much to spare) to pin her arms to her sides and pull her slender frame close to mine. Her entire body feels tense.

"Come on, let's get that cloak off you," I say, "It can't be very comfortable right now." I lift her chin, undoing the clasp at her neck, then pull her back down to the bed so that it's her head resting on my chest and my hands stroking over her greasy, snarled hair: a complete reversal of our earlier roles.

"You smell awful, you know," I murmur tenderly, patting her back. There is something in that combination of words and touch that finally breaks her down. First there is a shiver, then a sniffle. Then, she is sobbing full-force against me with Oz-knows-what pent-up emotion.

"There we are," I whisper, "just let it out. You let me have my cry, now I'm returning the favor." I rub her back between her shoulder blades through the threadbare fabric of her dress, my fingers moving of their own accord. I can't help but feel as if my body remembers hers: her vertebrae, every muscle and tendon that moves beneath my fingers with her sobs. The girl that no one ever touched except in anger. The girl that I couldn't stop touching.

"I've failed you," she whimpers pitifully.

"Fiyero's feelings are his own, Elphie. You can't be blamed for them." Firmer touch. More pressure. Reassurance. She's starting to soften against me. Her hand comes up to rest on my shoulder, and I know I am getting through. "It's not exactly like you showed up in a little red dress with plans of seducing him," I say with a small laugh.

"I'm a hideous mess," Elphie groans.

"You are a mess, my dear, but not a hideous one," I reassure her. "Fiyero was unhappy for a long time: with me, with the Gale Force, with the Wizard. I was clinging to him because he was all that I had left without you. I couldn't stand the thought of being left again. The engagement was completely my doing, and it was for all the wrong reasons. Really, I should be thanking you, because I would have made a terrible mistake. It would have hurt Fiyero and it would have hurt me just as much."

"You've loved him for such a long time, though," she says, body trembling in tandem with her voice. "I remember that night after the party at the Ozdust when you told me that you were going to marry him. You were so happy then. He was all you ever wanted."

"Was, Elphie. Past tense. And even then, our relationship was a lot weaker than I would have liked to imagine it. You're a smart girl; I'm sure you saw that a train wreck was inevitable. I just held it off as long as I possibly could. It's almost a relief now that it's happened. I can stop trying. I can stop pretending. After all, I just got what I've wanted more than anything for the past four years. I got my Elphie back!"

"You can't possibly be serious about that," she says, yet her trembling stills and it is apparent that I have her full attention.

"Oh, but I am, Elphie. I wanted nothing more than for the two of us be together like we are now so I would have the opportunity to tell you what I should have told you years ago…" I pause, searching for my courage. This may be the only chance I have to say it. "I was in love with you, you know." Her entire body freezes at the words. And now that I've said it I am scared. No, I am terrified. But it's out and I have to press on. I owe it to her. If nothing else, she deserves my honesty.

"Don't pretend you've forgotten what happened between us on the night at the Emerald Marquise," I say. "Don't pretend that we were nothing but the best of friends."

Elphie exhales the breath she's been holding and scoots up just a bit, so that her face is resting against my shoulder. "I have a confession about that night," she says, "I feel horribly guilty for what I did. You were vulnerable and I took advantage of it. Just like when I came back to the palace, I was thinking about nothing but myself. I'm probably selfish for coming back even now… I am wicked, just like they say!" Her voice is becoming higher in pitch again, more frantic. I embrace her tightly, trying to calm her.

"You took advantage of _me_?" I ask. "You were the one who was nervous and scared. I was ready to ravage you!"

"I don't think I was ready for it," she answers. "I didn't think that you were either… I didn't know what to do. I didn't mean to confuse you… I didn't mean to cause you pain."

"So why did you do it?" I prod.

"Because I wanted to," she answers slowly, "more than anything else in Oz. More than being in the Emerald City or meeting the Wizard or anything."

"And I wanted it that much, too, Elphie. I am not confused. It was the realest thing I've ever felt, and it is the realest thing I still feel."

There. I've said it. Just as I can't stop living, I can't stop loving Elphaba Thropp. I'm tired of the two notions being mutually exclusive. "Even if you've moved on and found someone else out there in that big world, I just…needed you to know," I say, my voice lowering to a whisper on the last few words. I can't totally ignore that possibility. Four years is a long time.

"There's no one else, Glinda," she says. "No one else since you. I haven't forgotten... I've never cared for someone quite as much." Her hand gives my shoulder squeeze. "I'm just… no good at these things. I don't know how to handle them."

I want to giggle and tell her that there are a few things she is welcome to handle, but I bite my tongue and silently curse the desire that has settled in the pit of my stomach at the memory of the Marquise. We are both too tired and ragged to act on it, and she is far too dirty. I need to get her into a bath tub and scrub her down… slowly. No. I banish the thought from my head. Elphie is not Fiyero and throwing myself at her in an act of desperation is not going to make her mine. Instead, I slide my hands reassuringly up and down her back.

"There is nothing to handle, my sweet," I assure her, using her old term of endearment. "Just let yourself be, the same way you've always let me. And let yourself be loved, because you are so beautiful and deserving…"

"And smelly," she says weakly as I kiss her forehead.

"That's temporary," I say. "I know you clean up nice." She nuzzles into my shoulder.

I feel warm and safe and, for the first time in recent memory, happy. I know things aren't as simple as they seem right now. There was no explicit profession on her part, no maddeningly passionate kiss to seal anything between us. But here she is, no longer crying, and completely relaxed in my arms. So relaxed, in fact, that within minutes she's asleep.

And she is the Wicked Witch of the West, unconscious and vulnerable in the heart of enemy territory. I question whether it is really a good idea for her to stay here. But she is just as exhausted as I am. And I'm afraid that if she left me now, I'd never see her again. So I wrap my arms tightly around her and twist a leg over hers for good measure, taking comfort in the fact that my bedroom door is locked. And then I sleep too, more peacefully than I have in ages. No nightmares will plague me tonight.

* * *

When I awaken, sunlight is already pouring through the curtains into my room, illuminating the green face that is inches from my nose. Unfortunately, my admiration of said face is cut short. I must have made some involuntary motion, causing Elphie to startle before me.

"Shit fuck damn!" she exclaims upon opening her eyes. That was not the reaction that I was looking for, and I draw back, feeling wounded. She sits up, eyes darting fearfully in every direction before falling on her broom, which still rests against my wall. Looking at it, she shakes her head. "There are eyes all over this city. I can only fly safely under the cover of darkness. Oh hell, what am I going to do?"

"Elphie?" I ask, reaching out to touch her arm. "My love?"

She looks at me, puzzled, as if she is just realizing that I'm here. Suddenly her face is overcome by a profound sadness. I know instantly what it means. She may be trapped by the sun that's streaming through the window, brighter than I ever remember it, but that is only temporary. And as soon as it is safe for her to leave, leave she must. There is no way around it, unless she is going to turn herself in to the Wizard and give up everything she believes in. I couldn't ask her to do that for me four years ago, and I can't ask her to do that for me now.

Though I think I could give this up for her. No, I _know _I can give this up for her…

She reaches out to touch my face, trailing her hand gently down my cheek. Last night's confessions were not forgotten after all. I breathe a sigh of relief as her expression softens. Her hair is even crazier than it was last night, sticking out at every possible angle. It makes me giggle as she leans in and presses her lips to mine. It's the kiss that I have been waiting for: tentative and sweet. Her tongue trails over my lips, begging entry. "Elphie," I breathe, embarrassed, "I have morning breath!"

She takes advantage of me opening my mouth to speak and kisses me full-on, a little more forcefully than before.

"Morning breath!" I repeat, drawing back. She gives me a small smile, lowering her mouth to the safer territory of my chin. "To answer your earlier question," I tell her as she presses a kiss there, "this is what you're going to do: You're going to stay here with me in the safety of my suite, take a nice, long bath and change into some better clothes. I will pack some essentials - do you know a spell to shrink luggage? - and tonight, we will leave, together. Like we should have all those years ago."

"No," she says, expression turning dark. "We will not. I was naïve when I asked you to come with me. I didn't know how hard it would be. I wouldn't wish my way of life on anyone, certainly not the person that… I love the most." She trips over the last words; she is obviously uncomfortable saying them.

"Elphaba, I am capable of making my own decisions! There is nothing for me here!" I snap.

"There is safety. Security. Warm beds and baths and food."

"All the things which are incredibly empty without you to share them with…"

"You've gotten by without me before."

"Barely. It's been excrutialating!"

We are interrupted by a knock at the door which sends Elphie back into panic mode. She dives off of my bed entirely, crouching on the side of it opposite the door.

"Glinda!" Helene's voice calls, "Are you quite all right?"

"Of course I'm all right!" I counter, annoyed.

"I haven't heard you cursing or breaking anything for quite some time now," she says, and I flush. "I was afraid you'd gone and offed yourself! Will you let me in?"

"I'm… not decent," I answer.

I hear a laugh from beyond the door. "That's never stopped you before!" she says. Elphie raises an eyebrow at me from where she's crouched on the floor. I want to tell her that it's not like that! I'm just… not particularly modest. She of all people should know that!

"I'm… bloated. And pimply," I answer weakly, trying to think of some excuse to deny Helene entry.

"There's _something_ going on with you," she replies. "You sound more like yourself, but something is off, and quite frankly, it worries me."

"Hold on, Helene," I sigh. "I'll come _out there _and you can see that I am perfectly fine."

I shoot an apologetic look at Elphie then toss my comforter on top of her just to make doubly sure she's hidden. "Mmpf," she says as the blanket hits her. I go out into the foyer of my suite to greet Helene, quickly closing the bedroom door behind me. She wraps me up in a tight hug.

"You look so much better," she says. "I hope you're finally over that bastard. He wasn't your type, anyway. He was lacking some of the things you seem to like the most." She motions to her chest, grinning wide. I sigh and shake my head at her. "Are you well enough to resume your duties today?" she asks me. "Morrible has been asking after you…"

I quickly shake my head no. "I am doing better, but… I'm still not totally myself. I've been feeling rather faint. I need some more time. Just one more day. Do you think you could hold Morrible off until then? And do you suppose you could bring up breakfast for me? I am famished… I could eat enough for two people! In fact, make sure the meal is big enough for two. Maybe three?"

A look of terror falls across Helene's face as she casts a sideways glance at my stomach. "That bastard didn't knock you up before he left you, did he?" she asks. "You sound suspiciously…pregnant."

"No!" I say, "No! It's not that! Helene…" I lean in toward her, lowering my voice to a whisper. "It is crucial that this stays between us, but… I am not alone." Her eyes go wide at my confession and her lips curl into a wicked smile.

"Glinda, you little minx! One minute you're distraught and not speaking to anyone, the next you've snuck someone up to your room! I don't know how you managed to pull it off; you astound me!"

"Please," I say, "This is our secret. Do whatever it takes to keep Morrible off my back. Bring us some breakfast, put it in the foyer, and see to it that we're not interrupted for any reason. My old friend and I… have a lot of catching up to do." I smile at my maid.

"I will do as you say, but only if you promise full details once she's gone. Oh Glinda, please tell me it is a she." I nod. Helene bounces with delight.

"Ozspeed, lovebird," she says, gently tapping my cheek before she leaves.

I return to my bedroom, locking the door behind me, then pounce on Elphie, who is still hidden beneath my comforter. She jumps before realizing that it's me and throwing the blanket off of her face. I smile at her, choosing to let go of our earlier argument. I will get my way, after all; one way or another I'll break her down and make her let me come with her tonight. I can think of some ways to persuade her… I reach out my hand, climbing to my feet and helping her to hers.

"Can you believe that my maid thought I was pregnant?" I groan. Elphie looks out the window distractedly. I feel insecure. I need her attention. I lay back down on my bed, stretching out my torso, one hip raised in the air. My nightgown falls low over my breasts.

"You're hurt," she says, taking notice of the bandage on my left hand instead of my seductive posture. Either that, or she's too nervous to acknowledge it. Either way, it's just like her. I sigh. "What happened?" she asks me.

"Broken glass," I offer, signaling to the empty frame of a mirror which once stood at the opposite side of the room. She sits back on the bed beside me, taking my hand in hers. And I smile a little bit, realizing that I feel loved and cared for as opposed to just wanted. She peels back the bandage, running her finger lightly over the edge of the cut. "This is pretty bad," she says, "it could probably use a suture or two. Tomorrow, when I'm gone, you should see a doctor…"

"I'm coming with you," I remind her. She ignores me, tracing over the lines of my palm with her fingertip.

"If you have a sewing kit, I could take care of it myself," she jokes.

"Seeing how well you've 'mended' your dress, I don't think it would be wise to let you repair my flesh," I retort with a smirk.

"I have stitched myself up a few times," she replies, quite seriously. The grin is wiped off my face as she hikes up her skirt to reveal an ugly scar on her thigh. "Farmer with a hoe," she offers by way of explanation. I wince. "Went right down to the muscle. Quite gruesome. I said this life isn't easy, Glinda…" I run my fingers over the scar, wondering what others she has now. And I notice how defined the muscles her thigh have become. All that riding around on the broom… Her legs are still slender, but firmer; less scrawny and more shapely. A slight tremor runs through my body.

"Doesn't the Grimmerie have healing spells?" I ask.

"Yes, but they are some of the most difficult to perform," she says, carefully replacing my bandage. "They involve a transfer of energy to another person, so you can't really perform them on yourself. And they take a long time to recover from; losing a piece of your life force is like losing blood. You feel faint for days; weeks even. I've only ever cast them twice, both times to save an Animal on the brink of death."

I look at her in awe. She's seen and done so much I don't know about. She's so incredibly brave… and probably just as rash as ever. My thoughts are interrupted by another knock at the door. Already. I sigh.

"Breakfast," Helene croons sweetly. I give her a moment to exit the suite, then I go to the door to grab the breakfast cart. Elphie, somewhat more relaxed now, remains sitting on my bed. This turns out to be a mistake, because as I start to wheel our food into the room, Helene pops out from behind the door.

"I'm sorry, Glinda," she says. "I just had to see - Oh, sweet Oz! It's _her_!" she gasps, eyes falling on Elphie, who looks equally terrified at being discovered. Every muscle in my body tenses as I prepare to tackle my maid to the floor before she can scream for the guards.

But she doesn't scream. She just stares forward with awestruck eyes. "Had a little ride on the broom last night, did we?" she finally asks with a small laugh, elbowing me in the ribs. I look over to Elphie, whose jaw is hanging in midair at the question. "So, how was it Glinda?"

I swat Helene's arm, hard. "Just this once, could you please not embarrass me?" I ask her.

"I'm sorry," she says, "but this is precious! What a scandal! What would the papers have to say?" With that, she struts up to Elphie, who looks far more frightened than her. "Helene Zariola at your service," she says, extending her hand. Elphie just stares at her.

"And I know you are the Wicked Witch of the West," Helene continues, "but I am certain you have a real name."

"El…pha…ba," she finally says, as if she's forgotten how to pronounce it. Nervously, she takes my maid's hand. "Zariola… That's a Quadling name," she observes.

"Finally!" Helene cries with glee, embracing a shocked Elphaba. "Finally someone acknowledges it! Your little lover here never believed me that I'm a quarter Quadling!"

Elphie's body is as stiff as a board; it's obvious that she's uncomfortable. "Helene," I sigh, "Please let go of her. I want to send you away so that I can eat in peace, but… can I trust you not to tell a soul about this?"

"You're going to have to trust me, I suppose," she smiles. "You don't have much other choice."

"I could have her turn you into a frog right now," I warn.

"Oh, she does all your bidding? Is she the Whipped Witch of the West now?" Helene laughs.

"Helene, out!" I command. My maid skips away while Elphie looks terrified.

"You seriously trust her?" she asks me. "Is she truly that loyal to you?"

"If you're asking if there's anything between us, there isn't," I say dryly. "There hasn't been anyone besides you… and Fiyero. Helene is quite straight, though she's constantly trying to set me up with other women that aren't…" I sigh. "It's a long story. One I don't feel like getting into. But yes, I trust her, no matter how crazy it sounds. I did her a very big favor, and she owes me."

Elphie frowns and I can tell she's not quite convinced, though I'm hoping it's on the later part rather than the former. I close and lock the door and wheel the breakfast cart over to the bed. There are two enormous platters of eggs, pancakes, sausage - which Elphie pushes aside in distaste - and a variety of fruit. I _am_ extremely hungry; I haven't eaten in days. I set a plate in my lap, digging into the food before me with fervor.

"Are you _sure_ you aren't pregnant?" Elphie asks, raising an eyebrow in my direction. I fling a forkful of eggs at her. They land on her dirty dress, and to my horror, she picks them off and eats them. Her appetite appears to be just as voracious as mine. It comes as a surprise, because I have never seen her dig into her food like this before.

"What about _you_?" I ask. "Been getting it on with some Goat? Or perhaps a Warthog is more your type?" I smile to let her know that I'm teasing.

"When you don't know when you'll get your next meal," she says, her mouth full of food, "you learn to eat all that you can while you have the opportunity." I nod, taking the offending sausages from her plate and placing them on my own. To be fair, I replace them with a few slices of melon, which she happily gobbles down. "You know, I should thank you," she says. "Your efforts to put some weight on me at Shiz probably saved my life during those first few weeks after I fled, when I didn't know where or how to find food…" She puts her fork down and smiles at me: a warm, genuine sort of smile. "Thank you, my sweet," she says, "for being so good to me."

"No, thank you," I say, leaning in to place a kiss on her chin. "It's always been my pleasure. And when we're done with breakfast, prepare yourself for an afternoon at the Spa Glinda. We have _got_ to do something about that hair, and about those nails!"

"It won't last," she frowns.

"It will last long enough," I say, my smile full of the promise of all the other ways I intend to be good to her.

"Glinda," she says, face turning pale as if she's terrified of the prospect, "those weren't there before, were they?"

"What wasn't there?" I ask her, confused.

"Those bars on your windows," she says.

What bars? I look up, and sure enough, there they are. Magic. Morrible. We both leap to our feet, abandoning the plates before us. Helene! That bitch sold me out! After everything, she sold me out!

"Hide," I whisper to Elphie, as I hear the door to my suite being forced open. But as the door to my bedroom is kicked in by a member of the Gale Force, it is already too late. At least a dozen soldiers come barging in, followed by the Press Secretary herself. They immediately begin to surround us.

"Elphaba," clucks Morrible, "I've always thought that Miss Glinda was way beneath you, though I suppose you may have recently rather enjoyed having her beneath you. I told you your bizarre attachment to that girl would be your undoing, and thankfully you didn't listen to me."

Elphie's teeth clench tightly as she turns to look Morrible in the eye, ignoring the soldiers around her. "Do not insult her like that," she says, boldly. But this is not the time to defend my honor. She needs to be defending herself! Two soldiers grab her arms, and I swing wildly at the one closest to me. The force of my own fist to his face surprises me; I have never fought before. My knuckles throb, but I'm sure his jaw is throbbing harder. It's oddly satisfying. But before I can swing again, I have been restrained as well.

I struggle in vain against the man who has pinned my arms behind my back. Elphie is being far too still. She should be fighting back. But she shoots me a look and I know exactly what she's doing. She's gathering the energy for a magical attack that will send everyone around us into a massive seizure, just as she did on the day that Dr. Dillamond was fired. Morrible might not be affected, though. I need to be prepared to run as soon as it happens.

"I was beginning to wonder if my trap was ever going to work," Morrible continues, "especially considering that when you came back, you took the Winkie with you. But patience has paid off after all." Trap? All this time, I've been nothing but a trap? Morrible lead me to believe that she didn't want me in the palace at all; that it was the Wizard who decided I should stay. But his Ozness himself talked about how I would give Elphie a reason to come back, and at the time, it sounded appealing. It didn't sound like… a trap. I curse myself for my own stupidity, but I am feeling the air get heavier around us. It begins to crackle with static. Elphie's body stiffens, preparing to enact the spell. The Gale Forcers have felt it too, though, and one of them sends his fist directly into her stomach.

The crackling energy is immediately gone as Elphie doubles over, retching and losing her breakfast all over my carpet. I cringe. Elphie is slumping forward, but the soldiers pull her back up by her arms, obviously causing her a great deal of pain. Morrible steps forward, slapping the soldier hard. "The orders were to capture her, not damage her!" she shouts at him.

"But Madame, she was doing something… Something _magical_…" he says.

"And do you think I wasn't aware of that? Do you think I couldn't have stopped it? Listen, all of you idiots! None of you harms either of these girls unless his Ozness or I command you to ourselves!" Apparently, that thought isn't completely off the table. I wince.

"Now, my dear," Morrible says, leaning in to cup Elphie's chin in her hand, "Where is the Grimmerie?"

"Not here," Elphie hisses, "do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"You were stupid enough to come back, yet again," she says with a haughty smile. "This time we were more prepared. It's actually rather disappointing that you let your natural sharpness be diminished by these…" she glances at me, "_hormones_." With that comment, she lets go of Elphie's chin and runs her hands over her sides, as if the book is tucked somewhere in her clothes. As if it would fit there without being noticeable! Morrible makes sure to glance over at me as she does it. Elphie cringes, disgust written all over her face.

"Not going to be doing any magic for a bit now, are you?" Morrible clucks, prodding Elphie in the exact same spot she was just punched. Her face twists in pain. "That's good; it will give me some time to have a little talk with Glinda. Guards, please take our good witch to my office, and I'll accompany this one downstairs to make sure none of you do anything stupid again."

"Glinda!" Elphie cries as the two men who have a hold of me drag me out the door. Of course, she is more worried about me than herself.

* * *

I am nothing but furious as I wait for Morrible, curled into a ball on her sofa. She is not going to get away with this! I have played by her rules and the Wizard's. I've spent most of my life sitting down, being quiet and doing as I'm told; frankly I'm through with it! It has made me nothing more than an accessory to treachery. It has made me into bait for the last person I ever wanted to see trapped. I am such an idiot.

I curse myself for not continuing in my studies in magic when I left Shiz; for not cracking open those tomes of Elphie's that I packed so lovingly to bring with me to the palace. No one would have expected it from me, especially not Morrible, and I would have the upper hand now. What stopped me? Confidence, I suppose. Elphie made spells look so effortless. For me, magic was hard work with little payoff. And I've never really worked hard for anything. I've always been afraid that I'm incapable of being anything but a pretty face; an accessory; a veneer.

Elphie said she should have stayed away from me for my own good. No, she should have stayed away from me for hers! Through everything we talked about since she returned to me last night, she never once expressed disgust over the choice I made to stay behind when she fled this place. She expressed nothing but absolute understanding. Regardless of how selfish she claims to be for wanting to see me again, she's never thought of anything but my best interest. She deserves more than someone who is willing to touch her, fuss over and dote upon her. She deserves someone who is willing to fight for her, too. I haven't been that person.

I clench my fist, short digging into my palm.

I am going to be that person. I am going to fix this. I am going to get to Elphie, and we are going to get out of here!

Morrible opens the door and comes walking into the room, self-satisfied smirk across her hideous face. The timing could not be more perfect. She's carrying a tray of tea. It's déjà vu. She wants to remind me of my place. She wants to remind me of my failures. My anger has reached boiling point, and all of a sudden, the tray flies up into Morrible's face, spraying hot tea all over her. My jaw drops. Did that really just happen? Did that come from _me_? I have not been moved to even try a spell in years. It was always anger that brought out Elphie's most intense magic. My heart skips in elation.

But Morrible is not amused. As the tea soaks through her hair and runs down her face, she raises a hand toward me. Immediately it feels as if my body is bound by invisible ropes. I cannot move at all.

"I didn't know you had that in you," she says, wiping the liquid from her face with the dangling sleeve of her dress. "But it doesn't much matter, because I know that's _all _you have in you." She puts her hands on her hips, glaring down at where I sit. "Now listen carefully, missy. Whether you intended to or not, you've managed to draw Elphaba back here. But you still have a duty to his Ozness, where your friend is concerned. You are quite possibly the only person in Oz that has sway over her and you are going to use it. You are going to convince her to hand over the Grimmerie. After she performs that gesture of good faith, she shall be in the employ of the Wizard, just as she was meant to when you first came to the Emerald City."

"And if I can't convince her, _Madame?_" I ask disdainfully. I have absolutely no intention of asking Elphie to stay in this place. I have absolutely no intention of staying in this place myself.

"Then she'll simply have to be destroyed," Morrible answers.

"You wouldn't," I growl between clenched teeth.

Morrible narrows her eyes at me to communicate exactly how serious she is. "It would be extremely regretful," she says, "but she is too powerful to imprison for long. I had to enchant the bars of her cell, you know… I can't be too careful with her, even if she's injured. Oh, don't look at me like that, dear Glinda. You'll be able to tend to her soon enough. I have every intention of throwing you in the cell with her. Then you can work your magic with her, the only kind of magic you've ever truly had. I'll make sure the guards keep to the top of the stairs so that you two have your privacy. Then it's up to you. Fawn, fuss, cry, beg… Fuck her all Ozdamned night if that's what it takes for you to get through. I've invested a lot of energy in Elphaba, you know. And I would hate to see all that raw talent snuffed over a simple difference of…political opinion. Really, it would be quite tragic."

She studies me for a moment, letting her words sink in. "Think about it, Glinda. Your friend can finally get the respect she is due and the limelight you have been so unfairly claiming. The two of you can finally be together as you've longed to, and under the Wizard's protection, nothing can come between you again. Or you can be the only soul in Oz to mourn the death of the Wicked Witch. The way this goes ultimately rests on your powers of persuasion. The guards will take you to the cell in about an hour. You should be able to move again by then."

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves the room in a swooshing flurry of fabric. The tray of tea, the pot and cups, lay strewn across the floor. I am proud of myself for the small victory, but there is a long way yet to go. I wonder if the magic will come again. I wonder if it will continue to help me.

* * *

True to Morrible's word, the binding spell starts to come undone after about an hour. So when the guards escort me down to the basement, I can actually stand on my own two feet. Even after four years of living here, there are many places in this palace that I've never been. The makeshift dungeon, where criminals are held before they are either thrown in Southstairs or put to death, is one such place. Flickering torches line the wall as we descend into the darkness. There is no electric light down here; there are none of the creature comforts found everywhere else in the palace. There are probably bugs. But Elphie is here, and there's no place I'd rather be than with her.

She is folded up as small as possible against the far wall of the dank cell.

I clear my throat as the guards throw open the heavy iron door, tossing me inside as quickly as possible before slamming it shut again. They are obviously terrified of her. I land on my knees on the hard stone, still in my nightgown after all the chaos. "Hello, pretty girl," I smile faintly at Elphie, "come here often?"

She starts to move toward me but stops, wincing in pain.

"Stay there," I instruct her, "I will come to you." I crawl over to where she sits, sliding my legs beneath her knees and curling myself around her body protectively. Already, the guards have left us. Morrible has kept her word. Either she is confident about the holding power of her enchantment on the cell, or she is really stupid. Either way, I am certain the solitude will work to our advantage.

"Are you alright?" I ask Elphie, gently resting my hand on her concave stomach. I feel lean muscles twitch beneath my fingers, but there is no outward sign of pain on her face. I trail my fingers across her belly, earning an unexpected shiver of pleasure before she stops me, folding her hand over mine.

"Just a little tender is all. I have not gone into shock, passed out or vomited blood. So I'm fairly certain that none of my organs are ruptured," she says nonchalantly. "And you? They haven't hurt you, have they?" Her hands gently grip my upper arms as she eyes me for signs of damage.

"I am fine," I say, meeting her eyes.

"But you're not fine," she says, eyes darkening in the flickering torchlight. "You are imprisoned with me. Because of me."

"Funny you should say that, because I can't help but feel the reverse is true. Morrible said that I've finally fulfilled my purpose. Well, one of them. The other is obviously to convince you to turn over the Grimmerie," I say in disgust, leaving out the part about her being destroyed if she doesn't. For all I know, it could be another lie to manipulate me. But either way, it is not going to come to that. We are going to get out of this place tonight.

"That's the only reason she is allowing us to be together now," I continue, "And there's so much I could have done differently. I could have gotten on the broom four years ago, or I could have gone back to Shiz. I could have insisted that we leave last night. I could have kept up my magical studies. I could have bettered myself so that I would be more prepared for a situation such as this…"

"No, my sweet… You had no way of foreseeing this happening."

"And neither did you," I say. "It comes down to this: we can both blame ourselves, but we should really be blaming the people who put us here in the first place. The people who forced us both to make choices that we, as university students, should never have had to make. The people who drove us apart. They are the ones we need to be angry at."

Slowly, she nods.

"I think I had an Elphie moment," I say, fighting hard not to smile.

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Elphie asks me.

"I got so angry at Morrible that I levitated a tray of tea into her face. Imagine that. I haven't used that spell since we were back at Shiz!" It's impossible not to smile, now that she is smiling too. She ruffles my hair affectionately. "I know she has enchanted this cell," I say, "but maybe between the two of us, we can break through her magic. Just show me what to do."

* * *

I make a deep, guttural noise in the back of my throat as, for what seems like the hundredth time, I focus all of the energy in my being on the lock of the cell door. Elphie is doing the same. Her hands are on top of mine and a beam of something orange emanates from our overlapped fingers toward the lock. It's hard to tell how much of it is her doing and how much - if any of it - is actually mine. But for the hundredth time, we hear the distinct sound of our combined magic crashing against Morrible's spell. It crackles like water on a skillet, then fizzles away. My power just isn't strong enough, and Elphie is too weak from her injury, for us to make a dent.

"Glinda, let's take a break," she says.

"I don't want to," I growl, fixated on the goal of escape.

"You're getting yourself all frustrated. You can't do magic when you're frustrated," she says, sliding her thumb lightly over the back of my hand.

"But it worked when I was angry," I protest.

"It's not the same thing. You need to relax." She trails her fingertips from my hands up over my forearms slowly, then repositions herself behind me so that she can knead the muscles at the base of my neck. I fondly remember our shared massages back at Shiz, but this isn't the time for it. Not when things are so urgent. Still, sweet Oz, it feels good. I lean back, feeling my tension start to melt. Once I've relaxed, the pressure of her fingers starts to lighten until she's not massaging at all but caressing. Her short nails slide behind my ears, down the sides of my neck and over my jaw line. My breath catches in my throat, and her fingers wander there, too, tracing the faintest of patterns over the sensitive skin. She brushes my hair to the side and then she is kissing the spot where my neck meets my shoulder.

"Elphie," I blurt out, "you terribly sneaky thing! Are you trying to seduce me? Here and now?" It is unlike her to be this bold. But it is also so much what I have been wanting.

"Maybe," she says against my ear. I can hear the shy smile in her voice, "but only if it's working."

I lean back against her, making it apparent that it is. Her hands slide beneath the collar of my nightgown, fluttering over my collarbone and lingering above my breasts, as she catches my earlobe gently between her teeth. I moan softly, undoing a few of my buttons to give her more access. I am nestled, facing forward, between her legs now. Her dress is pushed up behind me. I take advantage of this position by placing my hands on each of her bare knees and gently raking my nails upward. Her hands slide tantalizingly lower on my chest - slowly, tentatively, until finally they move to cup my breasts. I give a tiny wiggle of satisfaction, urging her to continue. Her hands are trembling though. I reach up to cover them with my own, and for a minute we sit in perfect stillness, her warm breath against the back of my neck. We can still stop.

If we don't stop, we may never be able to, and all hopes of escape will be abandoned.

"I love you, you know," she says, voice soft, yet more confident than it was the last time she said it. "And I want you more than words can describe." With those words, sanity and rationality are abandoned. I arch my body forward, pressing my breasts harder into her hands in a silent plea for her to claim me. Her hands slide down to the safe territory of my ribcage. Oh Elphie.

"No," I say firmly, tightening my grip on them and bringing them back up to my breasts. "Are you nervous, darling?" I ask her. "Don't worry, I will show you what to do." And with that, I turn around on my knees to face her, reaching for the buttons at the back of her neck.

"No, it's alright, that won't be necessary," she says, fear written plainly on her face at the prospect of being on the receiving end of any sexual attention.

"Please," I whine, "I want to see you. I want to touch you." I do; I don't even care how she smells anymore. I just want her. I lean closer, but she presses her palms against my shoulders, holding me back. Then she pauses to catch her breath, hand clutching her stomach.

"You're hurt," I say, "we don't have to do this."

"Nonsense," she says, voice low and husky, "a little sweetness to distract from the pain. You're my sweet… sweet…" She becomes incomprehensible as she trails her lips down my collarbone. For now, I will concede to her reluctance to be touched intimately. She's injured and imprisoned; she feels vulnerable enough. She needs to be completely in control and I will not begrudge her that. I know the feeling well. I will give her whatever she needs. I unbutton my nightgown further, completely exposing my breasts.

I let out a sharp breath as her fingers finally find my nipples. Carefully and tentatively, she strokes them. Her touch is feather-light and surprisingly tantalizing. My hand trails over her side, which she grudgingly tolerates.

I hear a cough from outside the cell and bite my tongue to suppress a scream. Elphie quickly turns her face away from whoever has intruded upon us as I scramble to button my nightdress again. "I should have planned on walking in on a peep show," Helene says slyly from outside the cell. In a split second, I am on my feet, as close to her as the bars will allow me to get, staring angrily into her brown eyes.

In her right hand, there is a large frying pan; Oz knows what for. In her left hand, there is a set of keys. She smiles, dangling them inches from my nose, and snatching them back when I reach out to grab them.

* * *

_**Next up: **__Escape… but not unscathed._


	13. Insult and Injury

_**AN: **__Hey, look! I'm not dead, nor did I abandon this story. I've been thinking about/working on it whenever I can, but life is interfering, as well as my second-guessing, paranoid, perfectionist tendencies. Lots of thanks are in order here. First of all, I want to thank both The Songwriter's Ghost and Ridiculous Mavis for beta-reading for me. Second, I want to thank the rest of you for being so patient. I can't promise that I won't be equally slow with the next chapter, especially since we are heading into the wonderful time known as retail holiday season, but I'll do my best._

**Chapter Thirteen: Insult and Injury**

"You _bitch_," I hiss at Helene through the bars of the cell, "you _whore_!" Anger boils up inside me. I have trusted and confided in this girl for four years. I have done everything within my power to help her, only to be coldly and unabashedly betrayed. I'm sure she's been in Morrible's pocket the whole time; after all, her former profession suggests that she'll gladly shed all of her dignity for the right price. She is the reason we are in the dungeon and she is the reason Elphie is curled up against the wall in pain. Well, at this moment, that might be from embarrassment more so than injury, because Elphie is far more modest than I am. But she is hurt, and could have been hurt far worse.

"That's not very nice, and it's no way to buy your freedom," my maid says, keys still dangling casually from her fingers as she puts a hand on her hip and stares at me.

"If you are going to free us, then free us. But if your only intention is to torment me, you might as well leave!" I growl back at her.

"Cool your skirts, Missypiecakes. I will free you," Helene says, "if you give me something in exchange." I raise an irritated eyebrow in her direction. What could she possibly want after the handsome prize she was sure to have received for her _outstanding _service to the people of Oz? "Forgiveness," she says quietly, "for turning you in."

I clench my teeth hard. "I don't want to play games, Helene. I do not barter with my emotions. You've wronged me. You have wronged the woman I love. And I am not going to forgive you."

With that, she reaches into her satchel, tossing a fat leather pouch filled with coins through the bars between us. It lands on the stone floor of the cell with a heavy clink. A single piece of gold spills out, spinning on its edge like a top. "Half my pay," she says, "from his Ozness. It is yours."

"Gold is not worth the price of trust," I say, icily, leaving the pouch where it lies. "I will not be bought so easily."

Helene's face falls. "I have not received the other half of my pay," she says. "The Wizard held out on me, and I fear I have made a mistake." So that's the reason for this… change of heart? She hasn't received the compensation she was promised, so she's going to free us out of spite? Helene obviously has no loyalty to anyone; it's truly sickening! But I choke down the angry words brewing on the tip of my tongue. There is more at stake here than my pride. I have Elphie to think about, and this may be our only chance out.

I know I should lie. I should say that I forgive Helene if that is what she wants to hear, if that is what will get us out of here. I've lied plenty, to all the people of Oz, telling them that their Wizard is great and wonderful. I should be able to lie now like it's nothing. I should be able to lie to this girl; to the only real friend I've had here in the palace, who has apparently never been my friend at all. But the words will not come. So I stand, staring mutely through the bars.

"You," Helene beckons softly to Elphie, who has been watching our exchange in silence, "come here." Elphie looks surprised by my maid's request, but she attempts to stand, giving a pained groan as she does. I rush to her side, taking her arm to help her to her feet. She said the pain wasn't that bad. I give her a reprimanding look and then lock my eyes into Helene's with a glare.

"You're hurt," Helene comments, with something that sounds like regret. But it doesn't make me soften to her.

"What did you think the Gale Force would do with her?" I scoff, but Elphie places her hand over the back of mine to silence me.

"What is it, Helene?" she asks, her voice firm but not harsh. She seems to have swallowed down her embarrassment from the compromising position in which we were caught. My maid fidgets with her hands as she looks nervously at the woman I love. I have never seen Helene fidget before. I have never seen her look even the slightest bit uneasy the entire time she has worked for me. She has never shown anything but sass and confidence. I should know all about putting up a front, though. I shouldn't be surprised that I'm not the only one who can do it.

"I have a question for you about magic," she says meekly. Magic, now, of all things?

"I'm hardly an authority," Elphie says, without any of the sarcasm one might expect.

"Nonsense," Helene protests. "You are powerful. You're nearly as powerful as _him_, if not as powerful. That is why he considers you such a threat." I know she's talking about the Wizard. "Maybe if he can't help me, you can. But I suppose magic can't… I suppose it can't bring back the dead?"

"Not a single spell in the Grimmerie," Elphie says, taking a step closer to the bars.

Helene's features tense as she balls her fists. "He lied," she says, voice thick with emotion. "He promised that he could grant me my heart's greatest desire. He even… he knew what it was."

"Helene, the Wizard is a fraud," Elphie says gently. "He has no magic at all. I am one of the few people who knows this, and that is why he considers me a threat." Helene looks at me then, eyes searching.

"It's true," I confirm. "The Wizard and I are the same. We get by with parlor tricks and tiktok mechanics, like the bubble machine on my carriage. It's smoke and mirrors. Morrible has magic, but…"

"…but even she can't raise the dead. Nor can I," Elphie finishes.

Helene tightens her fists as her face contorts into a terribly pained expression, not unlike Elphie's face when she was punched in the stomach. My maid takes the key in her hand and, fingers shaking, turns it in the lock of the cell door. As soon as the iron gate clicks open, I grab Elphie's wrist, pulling her to freedom. Helene stands before us, looking broken and dazed, but I haven't the time for whatever tragic story she wants to tell. Nothing will change the fact that she sold us out. Nothing will make me forgive her the way she wants me to.

Elphie keeps pace with me despite her injury; that is until we reach the steps. She winces, hugging the wall of the stairwell, as she pulls herself onto the first one. I drape her arm over my shoulder, wrapping my own around her back to help her. We take a step; Elphie's jaw clenches with pain, but resolutely she takes another, refusing to stop. I am surprised when I feel Helene's arm brush against mine. She has squeezed herself between Elphie and the wall and is now supporting her from the other side. I am in no position to refuse the help. Together the three of us mount the staircase as quickly as we can. Once we reach the top Elphie quickly wrenches away from us, nearly tripping over one of the two guards who lie unconscious on the floor. At least, I hope that they are merely unconscious, though I am not going to stop for long enough to find out. I realize what Helene must have done with the frying pan, which dangles from the fingers of her free hand even now.

"You did this?" I whisper, unable to conceal my amazement at her boldness.

A smile spreads across her lips as she nods. "It's easy to take down a man with some semblance of honor," she says. "They don't expect to be attacked by a lady, and when they are, they are not keen on fighting back. This way, girls." She guides us down a narrow, utilitarian-looking corridor. It's a servants' hallway, which leads us past several pantries and a scullery before dumping us out into the empty palace kitchen.

"I hid your broom out back, behind the rubbish bin," Helene says to Elphie. "Morrible was rather perturbed about not being able to find it. Apparently Glinda's not the only one who fancies a broom ride sometimes." She elbows me in the ribs. I give her a reprimanding shove, almost affectionately, before I remember that I am still genuinely angry. My emotions are so conflicted. She's helping us escape… but she got us into this mess in the first place.

"Helene," says Elphie seriously, ignoring my maid's awful joke about her broom, "I want you to know that there was a time when I believed in the Wizard too. So many people do. And whatever he promised you… however he harmed you… be assured that I will fight against him until my last breath. I will fight for the truth."

"Come on," I groan, tugging at Elphie's sleeve. We don't have time for this.

But Helene nods at Elphie, then looks at me. "It was my child," she says in little more than a whisper.

"You… didn't have a child!" is my stunned response.

Helene untucks her blouse from her skirt, lifting it to reveal telltale stretch marks on her side. "The date she was supposed to be born was actually the day you arrived here at the palace. But she came early. I was still on the streets then and I couldn't get her the care that she needed. She lasted less than a week. She was so small and delicate… It was agonizing to see her fade away... The night you came here, Glinda, after I put you to bed, Morrible took me to his Ozness. He promised I could have her back if I turned in the Wicked Witch."

I expect Helene to cry, but her eyes are glazed over and her jaw is stiffly set. She has buried this so deep. I never knew; never even suspected. I never realized how much she was hurting. When I came here, I was so miserable myself that I wouldn't have noticed another person's misery. I am sorry now. I realize how much she is like Elphie and I: another helpless girl, manipulated by the Wizard and Morrible as a means to an end.

I reach out to embrace her. "I forgive you," I say softly.

As if on cue, Morrible's voice booms out through the palace. "Guards, the prisoners have escaped! Secure all entrances immediately!"

"You need to go," Helene whispers softly.

"Be safe," I tell her, still not releasing her from my arms. "Take the money you were paid and get away from here as fast as you can. Get away from the lies and deception. Go to Quadling County. You seemed happy there." She nods as I pull her tight against my chest. I sniffle, but Helene remains her composure. Elphie stops in the doorway to look at us, an awkward bystander to the display of emotion.

"Take care of her," Helene says, looking up to meet Elphie's eyes. Elphie nods sincerely. Then Helene turns and sprints out of the room, leaving us. I hurry Elphie out the door. She grabs the broom, which is leaning against the waste bin as promised, along with her cloak and her hat, which she returns to its place on her head. I sigh. The hat just won't die.

"The Wicked Witch rides again," she grins and places her cloak around my shoulders. "You'll need it more than I will," she says, in reference to my sleeveless nightdress.

"Where are we going?" I ask as Elphie mounts the broom, beckoning me to get on behind her. I am hesitant to put my arms around her waist. I don't want to cause her any more pain.

"Glinda, just hang on!" she commands as if she has read my mind. Obediently, I scoot up closer to her, wrapping my arms around her ribcage. "We're going to the Vinkus," she says. "I can only hope Fiyero has made it there safely. He has the Grimmerie."

The broom jerks sharply and lifts up, frightening me. I immediately tighten my grasp on Elphie, feeling guilty as her muscles tense uncomfortably beneath my arms. But my only other option is falling and that really isn't an option. A gunshot sounds behind us, forcing a startled scream from my throat. Elphie stares resolutely ahead, not fazed by the sound or my reaction to it. I am glad that she's the one driving. I look back to see a swarm of guards; we have been spotted, but we are already out of the range of their bullets. I sigh with relief, trying not to think about how far the ground is below us. At least the distance is less obvious in the darkness.

A sharp crack rings out beside us – not a bullet, but thunder, followed by a flash of lightning which illuminates the Emerald City skyline clear as day. My heart leaps in my chest. Morrible does not plan on letting us get away so easily. A sudden squall of rain hits us so hard that we are pushed down several feet by the pressure before the wind catches and tosses us right back up. The lightning flashes again, frighteningly close. I screw my eyes shut and bury my face in Elphie's back as she works to keep the broom steady and moving through the storm which has formed around us. I bite my lip, willing myself to open my eyes. Even if we were struck down now, or blown and dashed against the rooftops below, I would not regret this.

Elphie looks back over her shoulder at me and mouths the words "hang on." In the face of imminent death, her face is the most beautiful thing I could ever hope to see, even with her brow furrowed and forehead crinkled in concentration. I obey her command without question, clinging as tightly to her as I possibly can. She jerks the broom up at a ninety-degree angle, pointing us straight into the thunderclouds above. The fastest way out of this is through it. I brace myself. The lightning is blinding around us and the air is cold, so cold, as we ascend. For a moment, the pressure is so much that I cannot breathe. Then it eases, as we break through the clouds into the sky above the storm.

The clouds are an angry whirlpool below us, but the stars shine bright in the sky above. We are drenched, and freezing, but we are safe. I feel Elphie exhale a sigh of relief and then I let out my own. "You were brilliant," I say, nuzzling into the back of her neck.

* * *

We fly all night, despite my protests that we make camp in the Gillikin Forest and warm up beside a fire. The night air is cool, but it slowly dries out our clothes. The closeness of our bodies as we fly keeps the chill at bay. It takes until the first hints of sunrise for us to reach the doorstep of Kiamo Ko: the Tiggular family's vacation castle, nestled in the stark wilderness of the Northern Vinkus. If I remember correctly from Fiyero's few stories, its primary function is to serve as a retreat for his mother when she needs to get away from her royal and marital duties. Fiyero himself has only been here a handful of times, and it's not hard to see why he would avoid it. For a property belonging to the Vinkus royal family, I did not expect something quite so… austere. A dark stone tower looms against the paling sky like something out of a nightmare.

Elphie brings us slowly to the ground at the castle gate. As soon as our feet make contact with the stone pathway, she slumps forward on the broom, collapsing to the ground. Whether it is from pain or fatigue I don't know, but I am quickly kneeling beside her, resting a hand on her back. "I'm all right," she says softly, trying to catch her breath. "Just give me a moment."

"Elphaba!" comes a shout from behind us. "I saw you coming; I've been watching the sky…" I tense at the familiar voice as Fiyero stoops down beside me. "Glinda? What… why…?" His jaw goes slack as he locks eyes with me.

"She's hurt, you idiot!" I snap. At that remark, he reaches out and scoops Elphie into his arms as effortlessly as if she were a doll. A pang of jealousy runs through me as I collect her broom and rise to my feet.

"Put me down!" she barks in indignation.

"I will put you down… when we're inside," Fiyero answers nonchalantly, ignoring Elphie's flailing arms, even as they strike his shoulders. "Stop wiggling," he says gently, "you'll just strain yourself further." I can barely keep up with his strides, let alone protest against his actions. Because if I'm honest with myself, it's better that Elphie doesn't exert herself any more than she has. He leads me into a stark sitting room: a large space barely filled by three skeletal chairs and a single divan. He sets Elphie gently on the divan and lifts each of her arms, looking her over.

"Do you still have the Grimmerie?" she asks. He barely nods.

"That's not my biggest concern right now. Glinda, where is she hurt?"

"She took a punch to the stomach," I say. Elphie blanches as, for a second, Fiyero appears to consider lifting the hem of her dress to get a look. Thankfully, he thinks better of it. Otherwise, I couldn't be held responsible for my actions towards him…

"Elphaba," he shakes his head regretfully, his voice far too tender as he says, "I should have taught you how to take a punch. It's one of the first things they teach in the Gale Force-"

"I'm _fine_," she growls, cutting him off.

"She's fine," I echo, even though I'm not entirely sure of that fact myself. "We are just very tired."

"I'm surprised to see _you_ here," Fiyero says, turning to me. He hasn't taken the hint that I would like nothing more than for him to show us to a room.

"Yes, well," I reply crossly, "a lot of surprising things have happened. I would be glad to fill you in on them, more than glad actually. But we've been flying all night, and we need to rest."

"Of course," he says, finally seeming to grasp my meaning. "Can I offer you something to eat?" I resist the urge to slap my forehead in frustration, or better yet, to slap _him_.

"Fiyero, do you perchance have a guestroom?"

"We have plenty of rooms. You are not required to share…"

"One room," I tell him sharply, "with one bed."

He bites his lower lip. "Of course, you will want to look after her…" I sigh; explanations will come later.

* * *

Fiyero leads us to Kiamo Ko's master bedroom. Thankfully, Elphie has regained the strength necessary to walk, with the gentle support of my arm. "This is the one my mother sleeps in when she's here," Fiyero offers, "and she has some clothes in the wardrobe. Please feel free to them." I nod as I gently lead Elphie over the threshold of the room. "Fresh drea-" Fiyero begins, but is cut off when I shut the door. Slowly, I look around me. The furnishings are just as sparse as they were in the sitting room. Dark red draperies and thorny candleholders line the stony walls.

"Interesting… decor," I say to Elphie as she sets her hat and cloak on an end table. She gives a disinterested shrug as she begins to make her way to the bed.

"You're not sleeping in that dress again," I warn her. Fiyero said we were welcome to his mother's clothes, so I begin to rummage shamelessly through the drawers of a narrow dresser in hopes of finding appropriate sleepwear. The first thing I pull out happens to be a black lace negligee, which I doubt is what Fiyero had in mind. I drop it to the floor as if it is on fire. I don't want to know what else is in the drawer. The Queen of the Vinkus is a frightening woman. "It's warm enough. We'll just make do without clothes," I say, unbuttoning my nightgown and letting it drop to the floor.

Elphie looks at me uncertainly. "Come on," I urge her, "I've seen you naked before. At Shiz. Don't be shy with me _now_."

"It's been four years, Glinda," she says. "I'm not…"

"It's been four years too long," I interrupt, crossing my arms. "Come on, beautiful," I coax with a seductive grin, "take it off for me." She visibly shrinks away from me. If I had known those words would terrify her so, I wouldn't have said them. She can't be the same Elphaba who wanted to make love in a cold, dank cell. But even then, she would not let me touch her… "Elphie," I whisper gently, "I know it's been a long day and we both need our rest. I won't press you for anything, but I do so miss the sight of green skin."

"Well, there's still plenty of that," she concedes with a sigh.

"Let's have a look, then," I say, brushing my lips against her cheek before I carefully reach to the back of her neck, undoing the buttons of her dress. She looks down, face turned away as I begin to peel the fabric from her skin, exposing her shoulders, then her arms, barely resisting the urge to kiss every inch of them. Sometime during the years that have passed since our first visit to the Emerald City, she lost the bra I foisted upon her in the dress shop. I slip her dress down past two bare green breasts. She shivers as if she can feel the weight of my eyes upon her, even though she will not look at me.

"You're still a scrawny thing," I mutter fondly, running my finger down her leanly-muscled arm. "Not quite as scrawny though. You've been living the life of a fugitive, yet you actually look…" I am about to say "healthier," but as I slide the dress to her hips the huge purple bruise on her stomach is revealed. It covers her entire abdomen, spreading out across her green skin like a nasty blot of spilled ink. In the center of the blotch, I can see the sickly-white marks where the soldier's knuckles connected with her skin. "Sweet Oz, Elphaba!" I gasp. Her eyes travel to the cause of my distress.

"It's just a bruise," she says, but her voice wavers. I wrap my arms around her back, snuggling close to her.

"You need medical attention," I whisper against her shoulder.

"I need some rest is all, my sweet," she says, reassuringly. "These things always look the worst when they first happen. I've been injured enough over the years to know. Besides, what doctor would treat the Wicked Witch of the West?" She forces a laugh. It's meant to be a joke, but it makes me bite my lip, because it is true and the implications of it are scary. "Glinda," she says, bringing her arms up around me to rest her hands in my hair, "I will be just fine, I promise."

I nod silently, continuing to hold her. Her skin is colder than mine, but I savor the feel of it against my own. I run my hands briskly over the naked expanse of her back, trying to warm her up as much as possible. "I don't ever want to let you go," I whisper.

"Nor I you," she says, clinging to me just as tightly as I cling to her. "I was sure the Wizard and Morrible would see to it that we were torn apart again, this time for good. That's why I wanted to…" She is too shy to speak the words aloud, but she doesn't have to. It's why she wanted to make love to me, instead of trying to escape. She had given up hope for escape. "I thought it was the only chance we'd ever have," she whispers.

"Now there will be plenty of chances," I reassure her, "when we are both rested and well."

"Of course, my sweet. Forgive me if I wasn't myself then. Everything is changing so fast and I'm not sure I know how to cope. Ever since I went to see Nessa, my reality has been a bit surreal."

"You saw Nessa?" I ask, curious as to how Elphie's sister is faring as the new Governor of Munchkinland. Then I remember why it is that Nessa is the new Governor of Munchkinland: their father died not long ago. All this time, I haven't acknowledged that fact or offered any condolences. I should say something now, but what is there to say when the man was so genuinely awful?

"Yes, I saw her… and Boq," Elphie sighs before I can say anything else, her voice strangely haunted.

"Boq?" I ask. "Come lie down and you can tell me about it."

"I can't," she says, "not right now, lest I am once again reduced to a whimpering puddle. I think once every four years is more than enough for such a display." There is a slight edge to her voice, but I can tell it's not intended for me.

"I told you I wouldn't press you for anything," I say, finally succumbing to the urge to kiss her bare shoulder. She maneuvers us toward the bed with its heavy black silk covers. Despite the unappealing color, the blankets are mind-bogglingly soft and comfortable against my skin. We settle beneath them, and for the first time, I am able to savor the contact of her skin against mine without the barriers of clothing. I turn away from her, allowing her to spoon me in hopes that it will help ease some of the vulnerability I'm sure she's still feeling. She rests her chin on my shoulder as she drapes her arm around me.

Fiyero and I spent very little time unclothed with each other. The only time we both got naked was when we had sex, and I was not fond of cuddling afterwards. It was too warm; he was too sweaty; his chest hair tickled the skin of my back in a most-unwelcome way. There was always some reason not to linger in his arms. But Elphie's lithe body coiled around mine is perhaps the most wonderful feeling in the universe.

I try to savor the feeling completely, instead of allowing myself to be consumed by whirlwind of thoughts inside my mind: of the Wizard and Morrible; of Helene and her daughter that did not live; of dangerous injuries and unsympathetic doctors; of Nessarose and Boq; of Fiyero and the conversations that are inevitable.

"Sweet dreams, my sweet." Elphie's voice is soft, barely a whisper against my ear, but still very warm and sincere. I fold my own hands over the back of hers, not answering but willing her to feel the love in every breath I take as we drift off together.

* * *

I wake with a pang of insecurity, realizing that I am no longer wrapped in Elphie's arms. In fact, she is nowhere in the room. I stand, pulling the curtain back from the window. Dusk has set upon the Vinkus. I am alone, for the first time since I left the palace. The insecurity swells as I realize the old cliché: this is the first day of the rest of my life. And my life has been completely upended. It was my choice, of course; I don't regret it. I couldn't have lived with myself otherwise. I couldn't have stayed behind again and lost Elphie forever. But that doesn't mean that I'm not afraid. After all, what happens now? We are not going to get married and settle down in a cozy little villa to live happily ever after. I wish that we could, this whole business with the Wizard be damned. But his men are still out hunting for Elphie; hunting for us.

We could hide somewhere in these Vinkus hills, live a modest life, and disappear into obscurity. But Elphie would never consent to that. Just as she told Helene; as long as the Wizard is in power, she will fight against him.

By all means, I should fight against him too. I am certainly angry enough at him and Morrible. They hurt and defamed the woman I love. They drove us apart and then used me as a pawn to capture her. But there is more at stake than personal revenge. I think of Helene now and how she was used as a pawn the same as I was. I think of the Quadlings, slaving in the mines while men from the Emerald City sit in mansions, profiting from their toils. I think of the Animals that Elphie has so long championed. I think of the humble, ordinary citizens of Oz that I've met throughout my travels: citizens who believe every lie they are told. Certainly they deserve the truth, even if it's painful, because the damage wrought by the lies is far more painful in the end.

But it seems like a futile battle. In our time apart, Elphie did very little to raise consciousness of the Wizard's shortcomings. In fact, she played quite nicely into the image of wickedness that he and Morrible constructed for her. Her coloring was always going to work against her in life, no matter what path she chose to follow, but that's not the only reason that her words of protest fall on deaf ears. Setting fire to crops, destroying harvests, lobbing the occasional fireball at a remote outpost of guards – these are actions borne of anger. As far as I'm aware, no one has been killed or even seriously harmed in her outbursts. But her actions accomplish very little, and they are not going to endear her to the people of Oz. What she needs is some strategy. Some politics. Her public image is in need of a serious makeover. The politics of popularity happen to be my area of expertise… but even so, I have my work cut out for me.

And I am going to need to learn magic, because I cannot let myself be a liability again.

I need to talk to Elphie about all of this. We need to sit down and talk about the future. I need to get dressed. But my nightgown needs to be laundered. I sigh, slowly opening the door of Mrs. Tiggular's wardrobe, nervous of what I might find inside. The woman apparently has quite a fondness for black dresses, and I begin to pick through them disdainfully. Is that the reason Fiyero fell for Elphie? Because in some way, she reminds him of his mother? My fingers finally brush against something that is not black, but burgundy – a dark burgundy velvet. Since this appears to be the most colorful item in the entire lineup, it will have to do.

It is only once I put it on that I realize how deep the neckline of the dress plunges and how tightly the fabric clings to my curves. Its hem reaches down to my knees, but it would be shorter on someone taller than me, almost immodestly short. Fiyero's mother's tastes are decidedly non-Elphaba, after all. The outfit is rather ridiculous, but I haven't the patience to keep searching. It will have to do.

* * *

"…but there are pockets of resistance all throughout Oz," I hear Fiyero's voice from around the corner. I pause, skulking behind the arched entrance of the rustic-looking dining room. "One hears about these things in the Gale Force. They're not very well-organized and there's no centralization, which is the only reason that the Wizard doesn't consider them a threat. Elphaba, you could unite them!" Apparently I am not the only one with politics on my mind.

"I know about the resistance," Elphie snaps in agitation, "I've slept in their homes and eaten at their tables from time to time. But you are giving me far too much credit. They don't openly oppose me, but they don't _want _me either. I have no regard for the official channels. I'm too much of a firebrand. My reputation would tarnish theirs, etcetera. There's a reason I've always done things alone."

"But you're not alone anymore," he says softly. "You have me… and Glinda." He adds my name as if it is an afterthought.

"And that makes me far more upset than you'll ever know," she bites back at him. I press my hand to my chest above my heart, feeling the sting of those words. "Do you think I wanted to put either of you at risk like this?" she asks. "This has always been my fight."

"Isn't it a bit egotistical to think that this fight is yours alone?" I ask, finally summoning the courage to enter the room. Fiyero looks aghast at the harshness of my words, but Elphie just stares at me, eyes wide. I'm not sure if it's because of the challenge I've issued or the dress I'm wearing.

"Poor word choice on my part," she says, obviously flustered. "This isn't just my fight; it's just… I'm not used to bearing the responsibility for anyone's safety but my own."

"So I'm a responsibility?" I ask, trembling in anger. I don't know whether I want to scream or cry or both, but I manage to keep myself from doing either.

"Oh, Glinda, that's not what I'm trying to say!" she exclaims, shoulders slumping.

"Then what are you trying to say?" I ask her.

"Glinda, it is nice to see you awake," Fiyero interrupts nervously. "Shall I fetch you some tea? Some food, perhaps?"

"That won't be necessary," I say, finally composing myself enough to take a seat across from Elphie at the long dining table. I press my hands flat against the surface of the unfinished wood as I glare at her. She shifts uncomfortably beneath my gaze.

"I'm going to go take a bath," she says stiffly as she gets up from her seat. I want to follow her, but my hurt is too fresh. So I sigh, watching her go. She isn't moving with the ease that she should be, though I can tell she's trying hard to conceal the pain of her injury.

"What happened back in the Emerald City?" Fiyero has the nerve to ask me, as soon as she is out of earshot. "Elphaba won't tell me anything, but you're both so… different."

"What happened between you and Elphie before she came back to the Emerald City?" I counter. The anger hasn't left me, and now it has found a new target.

"I tried to kiss her; I got back-handed," he says, raising a hand to his cheek at the memory.

"Serves you right," I say, even as a quiet relief washes over me. It's not that I didn't believe Elphie. But it's comforting that their stories match: she undoubtedly rejected his advances.

"I'm sorry, Glinda, because I know this is hard for you to hear," Fiyero says, "but you deserve my honesty." His eyes darken as he looks at me, expression serious. "I'm sorry that you came here."

"I'm not sorry," I say.

He reaches out across the table toward me, but stops just short of taking my hand. I'm glad, because that would have been terribly uncomfortable. "It was awful of me to leave you the way I did and it was noble of you to come chasing after me," he says, "but we can't be together anymore. Even if the feelings aren't mutual, I can't help who I love. Please try to understand that."

The anger mounts inside me. How arrogant of him! How pompous of him to assume that he's the reason I came here, to go so far as to assume that I would want him back. He's talking as if he's breaking up with me, but as far as I'm concerned, things have been finished between us since he left. Actually, things were finished between us long before that.

"I understand, Fiyero. Believe me, I do," I say, trying to keep the fury from seeping into my voice. "I can't help who I love either," I say slowly, staring straight into his eyes. "Luckily she does return _my _feelings."

"Wait… she… Elphaba?" he asks in disbelief, shoulders rising. "You?"

I nod, folding my arms over my chest and leaning back in my chair. I should be making an effort not to look so smug, but I don't care. I'm blatantly hurting Fiyero, but I don't care about that either. He would have done the same to me in a heartbeat. I am certain of it.

"Sweet Oz," he says, still staring at me. "I expected you to leave me for her back at Shiz, but I didn't think that now, after all this time, anything would actually happen between the two of you. It seems impossible that you, Glinda the Good, now choose to align yourself with the most hated figure in all of Oz on little more than a whim. Is this some kind of trap? Are you trying to bring her down?"

"If I was trying to bring her down I would have let the Wizard keep her in that cell in the palace!" I answer, though my heart sinks knowing that I was not the one that freed us, no matter how resolute I may have been to do so. It was Helene that let us out, and Elphie's astounding broom-work that kept us from being captured again. As per usual, I was useless, and I very well could have been a liability. "I've always loved her," I protest weakly, "You're just angry that I have what you want!"

"I would not be so angry if I was certain you deserved her. She adores you; that much is obvious. She was so torn up over how she'd hurt you on the night of our _engagement ball_ that she had to go back to try to set things right, even though she knew she was putting herself at risk. Have you ever shown her the same consideration? Before today, it didn't seem like you loved her more than your title or your cheering crowds."

"You can criticize me for the past all you want, but don't you dare criticize me now! Leaving with her was a risk, yet I am here! I am here, Fiyero, and willing to stand beside her and fight with everything I have!"

Fiyero laughs harshly, tossing his head back. "You have yet to prove that you are capable of fighting for anything," he says. "Her statement earlier should be proof enough of that."

* * *

I slam the door to the master bedroom shut and throw myself into the empty bed. I am sure Elphie is still soaking in the adjacent bathroom. Today is not going at all as I had hoped. This morning was one of the most wonderful, beautiful moments of my life. But since I awoke, it's like the planets have shifted and nothing is as it was. I sigh deeply, hugging a pillow to my chest. I hope it is only temporary. I hope that Elphie comes out of the bath in better spirits, fresh and clean and smelling of flowers. I hope that she lies down with me and whispers words of endearment and proves everything that Fiyero said wrong. It is also selfish, but I hope we leave here soon, without him.

"Glinda?" she calls out softly from inside the bathroom. At first, I ignore it. "Glinda?" she calls out again, voice wavering. I hoist myself out of bed.

"Yes?" I respond, making my way over to the heavy wooden door.

"Would you… could you come in?" she asks. I sigh. Despite my conflicted emotions, she is making a request I can't refuse. I pull open the door and step slowly inside.

Elphie is submerged to her neck in a claw foot tub, surrounded by a mountain of bubbles. I cannot suppress a giggle at the sight. "Please tell me your body hasn't melted away," I say with a small smile.

"Not quite, my sweet. But I seem to have encountered an almost equally troubling situation." She looks down nervously at the foamy water.

"Which is…?"

"I can't seem to get out."

"What do you mean you can't get out?" I ask. In response, she reaches her hands up out of the bubbles, planting them on either side of the tub. Then she attempts to push herself into a standing position and winces, falling back into the water. "Really, Elphie!" I exclaim, rushing to her side, "a simple answer would have been fine. I didn't need that demonstration! It's that Ozdamned injury of yours isn't it?" She nods slowly.

"Let me help you," I say, more softly now. I feel guilty for my earlier anger. I reach down, wrapping my arms around her back as she braces herself against the side of the tub again. She gives an agonized groan as I raise her to her feet. The ridiculous dress I am wearing is soaked now as she clings to me for support, practically doubling over against me. But she still has to get _out_ of the tub, the sides of which come up past her knees. If she's in this much pain, just stepping over them is not going to be easy. It's a wonder she managed to get _into_ the tub in the first place.

"I'm sorry…" she pants against my cheek. "I complained about having to be responsible for you, and here you are rescuing me from my bath."

"At least I'm good for something," I sigh, more regretfully than resentfully.

"Really, Glinda. What would I do if you weren't here?"

"I suppose," I say, brushing her wet hair out of her eyes, "that you could have called for Fiyero's help."

"And be seen like this by him? I'd rather have lain in the tub until I died," she says, quite seriously.

"Well, you're not out of the tub just yet, my dear, and I intend to get you out before your precious fingers get any more wrinkled. Can you sit here on the edge?" I ask her. "Sit down and swing your legs over?" She nods. The process is slow. It frightens me to see her so crippled by her pain. I need to get a look at her wound, but she remains hunched over herself. She rests her meager weight against me, panting heavily from exertion. I wrap my arms around her torso again, helping her stay upright as I lead her back into the bedroom.

"I need to dry off," she protests as I move her in the direction of the bed.

"You need to lie down," I say as I ease her down on to the mattress. She immediately folds herself up into a little ball.

"Elphie," I chide, "let me see the bruise." She looks absolutely terrified, and that terrifies me. I bring my palm to rest on her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb and forefinger. "Let me see," I repeat, lowering my hand to her shoulder and pushing back with gentle pressure. Hesitantly, she straightens, reclining back to give me a look at the bruise on her stomach. Only, it is no longer just a bruise. Her belly looks swollen and more discolored than ever. It feels hard when I press my fingertips to the skin. Hard and hot. I swallow, pressing my palm to her arm, then her forehead. Even though the bath water had gone cold, her skin feels warm all over. She is not going to be fine like she promised. There is some sort of internal damage which is only now making itself known. Something is seriously wrong.

The look she gives me suggests that she knows it, too. She probably knows better than I.

I can't fall apart now, though. Not with her so scared. I will my hands not to shake as I tuck a blanket around her. "Give me just a clock-tick and I'll be back," I say resolutely. "I am going to send Fiyero for the help that you need."

"Too dangerous…" she says softly. "Can't risk us being turned in… _you_ being turned in..."

"It's preferable to…" The words die on the tip of my tongue. I don't even want to think them, let alone speak them. The lump in my throat grows thicker and heavier.

"Do… what you need to do, my sweet." I nod, quickly turning to leave the room, because I don't want Elphie to see the tears in my eyes.

* * *

Kiamo Ko is bigger than I thought, and Fiyero never gave us a tour. He may have offered us one this morning when I was desperate just to get to sleep. I search frantically for him, but he is no longer in the dining room where I left him. Nor is he in the sitting room, or any of the other rooms I enter. After several frenzied moments, the distinctive scent of food catches my nose and leads me back through the dining room into a kitchen. Fiyero stands before a stove, stirring a pot. I didn't know that he cooked, but I can't spare the emotion to be surprised by it.

"Hungry?" he asks me, eyes cold.

My body starts to shake, the tears no longer able to be contained.

"Glinda?" he asks uncertainly, turning to face me. "Is this… about before?"

I shake my head. "It's Elphie," I say. At those words, he drops his wooden spoon to the floor and takes a step toward me, placing his hands on my shoulders. His touch is firm; steadying, but not rough.

"Tell me what's wrong," he says, concerned chestnut eyes meeting my own.

"She's not okay," I whisper. "She's feverish… Her stomach is hard… I think there's some serious damage, but she's been so stubborn about it… She needs medical attention, though. She needs medical attention _fast_…"

"I'll go into town straight away," Fiyero says. He gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze before he lets go.

"Wait, listen!" I plead. "You have to be careful! You can't just bring any doctor here… Remember, you are harboring Oz's most wanted criminal. Do you think it would be possible, do you think there's a doctor around here who…"

"…is colorblind?" he interrupts, his expression quite serious.

"Is an _Animal_," I say. Dillamond had a doctorate, after all. Granted, it was in history and not medicine. And I'm not sure if Animals have ever been able to practice medicine in Oz. Since the banns, certainly not… but before? If there is such a thing as an Animal doctor, I think he or she would be our safest bet. I can't imagine that one would turn her in after how hard she's fought for them. "Of course, you can't take too long to find someone, either… Just please, use your best judgment. We have to keep her safe."

Fiyero nods before dashing out the door. Somehow, I have enough presence of mind to realize that he has left the stove on. I reach over, turning off the burner. I hope that for once in his life Fiyero actually uses his brain.

* * *

_**Up next:**__ Finding medical help is harder than it sounds. Can Glinda save Elphaba's life? And at what cost? Mortal peril all around! Good times, good times._


	14. Prognosis

_**AN:** I was originally planning a longer chapter, but I decided that I should stop where I am and get this posted, because if I don't do it now there's no way I'll be posting anything until after the holidays. My thanks this time around go to: Ridiculous Mavis for the beta, Onhiro for sharing his medical knowledge, my sister for the name Skutch, and all of you for your infinite patience with me. Expect Chapter 15 sometime in January and a possible oneshot before then. Until then, I wish you all a safe and happy holiday._

**Chapter Fourteen: Prognosis**

After Fiyero leaves, I allow myself the luxury of a short cry in the kitchen of Kiamo Ko whilst leaning against a stone counter strewn with partially-chopped vegetables. I do not intend to leave Elphie alone for very long but I can't return to her with my eyes full of tears, no matter how potent the scent of onions is. It is not a good enough excuse. I need to be strong for her now. I need to pull myself together and do what I can to help alleviate her pain. Is there something I can bring her? I spare a doubtful glance at the pot of soup which Fiyero was laboring over. I don't think Elphie will want – or necessarily even be able to – eat in her current condition. There seems to be some unwritten rule about sick people and tea, in that they require it. She's not sick so much as injured, though her injury is making her sick, but… oh, Oz damn it all! Tea will have to do. I hope I still remember how to make it. At the palace, Helene always made it for me. And at Shiz, it was always Elphie…

I set myself to boiling some water. In the meantime, I splash cold water over my eyelids and force myself to take deep, calming breaths. I glance idly at a stack of books sitting on the counter. Perhaps something to read would distract Elphie from her pain. On the top of the pile is a gem entitled _Masculine Cooking for the Modern Man_. On second thought, perhaps we'll skip the books…

I return to the bedroom with two cups of steeping tea on a tray to find Elphie curled up on herself and violently shivering. I set the tray down and hurry to her side. "My sweet, could you… could you find me some clothing?" she asks, almost embarrassed to be found in such a state. But it's my fault. I've forgotten that she never toweled off from her bath and that she's quite naked beneath the damp blanket. Of course, she needs to be dry and warm more than she needs tea. My mind seems to be quite… misplaced.

"Of course!" I answer, scrambling for the wardrobe. I don't know why I'm bothering though; nothing new has materialized behind its mirrored doors since I dressed myself. Every garment that the Lady Tiggular owns seems to have far too little fabric to actually keep a person warm. "Just another moment," I promise, rushing from the room and into another. It is a guest bedroom, far smaller and nondescript. Rumpled in a dresser drawer, tucked among balled-up socks and undershorts, I find a set of men's flannel pajamas. These will be far more appropriate, despite the unfortunate shade of crimson which will most certainly clash with Elphie's skin. After a quick, cautious sniff to make sure that they are indeed clean, I hurry back across the hall with the pajamas and a fresh blanket.

Breathlessly, I place the heap of fabric down beside Elphie and help her sit up so that she can pull her arms into the sleeves of the pajama top. She slides out of bed and turns from me, perhaps so I can't see her wound. She hunches over as she struggles with the pants. "Let me help you," I say, but she just shakes her head. Her figure looks even less substantial as she swims in the sea of red flannel. Under different circumstances I suppose the sight might be endearing, like a child playing dress-up in her father's clothes. But now, as the nightshirt grazes over the uncharacteristic and painful bulge of her stomach, she looks far too frail and delicate.

"Tea," I say, almost reflexively as she sits back down, "you need tea." I retrieve her cup from the tray. She takes a slow, hesitant sip of the liquid and promptly sets the cup down on the nightstand.

I pick it up, pressing it back into her hands. "It may not be the best," I admit, "but, uhh, hydration is important…"

"Anything I swallow makes me nauseous," she admits. Maybe it's best that she doesn't drink it. I don't know the first thing about how to care for such an injury. Even Fiyero would be better than me right now! Surely the military gave him some sort of medical training? But one of us had to go running off into the closest village to find a doctor: another task I wasn't up for.

"Would a warm compress help?" I ask nervously, "or a cold one?"

"Doubtful," is her muttered answer.

"Oh Elphie," I sigh, "I would give anything, _anything_, to make you feel better. Please just tell me what to do!"

"Just stop fussing and sit down," she says, though not unkindly. I lower myself down onto the mattress beside her. She's already back on her side in the same balled-up position I found her in. I reach to stroke her hair, realizing that it's still quite wet and very much knotted. Well, there's something I can fix. My eyes wander to the nightstand, taking in the proximity of a broad-toothed comb.

"I am going to attend to this mess," I say. "Put your head in my lap." Elphie obeys, scooting down from her pillow to rest against my legs. I start working at her hair with my fingers, picking apart knots as carefully as I can. Then I grab the comb to further tease the tangles from the damp black strands. "So many split ends," I tut. "I am going to have to trim these out later. You could benefit from a good conditioner…" I do not miss the dramatic eye roll which follows. I let out a small sigh of relief, because an Elphie that rolls her eyes at me is an Elphie that's still clearly fighting.

"I saw that, Miss Elphie," I say.

"Conditioner is not in my vocabulary," she replies dryly.

I haven't called her Miss Elphie since Shiz, but memory takes me back there now. I remember the first time I released her braid and ran my fingers through the thick, lustrous strands. I remember how she leaned into my touch for one precious unguarded moment before her steel trap of a mind could snap shut; how her eyelids lowered halfway in an expression of contentment. I remember how I was drunk on it all: drunk on wanting to touch her, to bring her any small measure of pleasure or comfort that I could, to knead all her demons out of her. That desire has only increased tenfold in our time apart.

Her hard-won trust in me hasn't wavered. She snuggles deeper into my lap and lets out a tiny sigh; a murmur; practically a purr. I forget about her tangles entirely for a moment, running my fingers along her hairline and tracing my nails over her scalp in hopes of eliciting another such sound. My efforts are rewarded. My hands cannot heal her, but she's benefiting from this contact. She's not the only one. The silence which has settled between us is comfortable; warm and cocooning. For a moment it seems as if there is no Wizard and no life-threatening injuries… Of course, that's easy for me to say, being as I'm not the injured one.

The spell of silence is eventually broken by a sharp knock. I didn't hear the approaching footsteps; I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound. Elphie moves quickly from my lap to prop herself up against the headboard in a semi-sitting position.

"Fiyero?" I call out uncertainly. In response he opens the door. Standing beside him is a shaggy Bobcat with wide golden eyes.

"Your Goodnesses," the Cat says, bowing deferentially. He wears no clothes and carries no instruments but I can only assume that he is our doctor. I rise, walking across the room and extending my hand to him.

"Thank you so much for coming, Doctor – ?"

"You're far too kind to use that title with me," the Bobcat says, earnestly pressing his furry paw into my palm. "The name is Skutch. Not doctor, just Skutch. They revoked the medical licenses of every practicing Animal before I was able to earn mine. I barely just slid through my graduation with a Veterinary diploma before the Banns were fully enacted."

Veterinary? I glance quickly at Fiyero, who shrugs his shoulders in my direction. "Well, I am sure you are well-qualified," I say, hoping for the sake of politeness that my voice doesn't betray my concerns.

"Humans, Wildebeests, Wolves… we're all made from much the same stuff," the Cat says. He folds back his ears just a bit. "Of course, treating a human patient is a crime which could result in a lifetime's imprisonment for me. But aren't all Animals just one step from imprisonment anyway?" He sighs dramatically. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Elphie is listening intently to his words. Regardless of whether or not I take his medical knowledge seriously, she will.

Without warning, Skutch takes a few steps forward then leaps up onto the mattress beside her. She looks as if the sudden heave of the bed beneath his weight has made her queasy, but he ignores that, rubbing his chin against her face in greeting. Her eyes widen in surprise. I'm not sure this behavior is entirely professional but I continue to bite my tongue. Skutch's huge paws knead at the mattress beneath him as he purrs loudly, leaning against Elphie's shoulder and arching his back like a housecat. Does he expect to be petted? I certainly hope not! I can only hope he is reasonably competent and that he doesn't have fleas.

"Imprisonment is a risk that I am willing to take because I am forever in debt to Your Goodness," the Bobcat says, golden eyes locked on Elphie's and glistening with admiration. "You freed my sister and her husband from slavery in Munchkinland. I don't know how much I will be able to do to treat your injury given my limitations, but I will do what I can for you."

Elphie looks thoroughly surprised at the honorific that he has bestowed upon her. Her cheeks darken and she casts her eyes down to the sheets. It takes her a moment to compose herself but she responds in typical Elphie fashion. "Thank you, Sir Bobcat, but you are not indebted to me. I am a humble ally, not a savior." She smiles weakly before she is overcome by another shiver. I seat myself down on the bed beside her, opposite Skutch.

"Oh dear. Are you running a fever?" the Bobcat asks her, ears perking.

"She's burning up," I state. Isn't it obvious just from looking at her?

He frowns. "Might I examine you?" he asks. Elphie clenches her jaw and gives a slow nod.

I turn to look at Fiyero who is still lingering silently in the doorway. Whatever sort of circus is about to take place we'd do well for one less onlooker. And though Elphie's stomach might not be in its normal lovely condition, Fiyero does not need to see it in any condition. It is time for him to leave. I suppose my expression conveys this well enough because he bows and takes a step backward, shutting the door behind him. With that matter addressed, Elphie slides her blanket down to her knees but she makes no further move to reveal her injury. Instead, she looks down at her pajamas, chewing on her lip.

If Skutch were a human physician I'm sure that she would be far more uncomfortable than she is now, but her anxiety is apparent nonetheless. I sigh; it's not like she's being asked to strip down. It's just a little bit of skin. Soft, vulnerable, bruised green skin. The Bobcat gives me an uncertain glance. He does not want to push her. As usual, that responsibility falls to me and I will accept it with as much dignity as I can muster. Elphie gives me a pleading look as I reach for the hem of her shirt. I shoot a look back which firmly says _get over it_. I'm not unsympathetic, but I'm all for getting this over with as quickly as possible.

"Wait," says Skutch, raising a paw. He looks to Elphie. "Your Goodness, can you scoot down a little bit? I need you to lay flat on your back."

She obeys, but she looks as if she is going to vomit. I do not want this prolonged any further. She closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath as I begin unbuttoning her nightshirt. I try not to gasp at the inky shades of purple beneath the fabric as it falls away from her body. Her injury hasn't worsened in the past few hours but I'm not sure it _could_ look any worse than it already does. I clench my fist tight behind my back, trying to steel my nerves.

Skutch closes his own eyes for a moment at the sight, omitting a low meditative purr from his throat. "You poor dear," he sighs, shaking his furry head sympathetically as he presses a paw to the surface of Elphie's mangled stomach. She exhales sharply, letting out a breath I didn't realize that she was holding in. Discreetly, I offer her my fingers. I don't think that she'll accept them but she does, squeezing so hard that I fear they'll break in her sweaty palm. Her eyes stay focused on the ceiling above us as the Cat gently prods the bruised and swollen tissue. No matter how gentle he is I am certain that every second is agony to her. And so I am nearly as relieved as she is when he finally sits back on his heels, folding his paws in front of him. Elphie pulls the blanket back up over herself so quickly it is as if the fate of Oz rests upon the action. Before I can even protest, she sits up again.

Skutch sighs. "This is one of the most frustrating situations for me in my line of work," he says to Elphie, "and it is exactly what I was afraid of when Master Fiyero told me the nature of your injury. These paws can't hold a scalpel, my dear, and you are in need of a surgeon." I swallow hard, nearly choking, but Elphie doesn't blink. I'm not sure if she expected this all along or if she's just too shocked to react.

"A surgeon?" I ask the _veterinarian_. "Are you sure?"

"Quite, Your Goodness," he says. "We are looking at an internal bleed. That I am certain of, but it's impossible to tell which organs have been damaged from outside examination. Since the progression has been slow I'd wager that the damage is to the small intestine. It's fortunate because if it were her stomach or her liver she'd no longer be with us now. The problem, though, is that this type of injury carries more risks that the initial blood loss. If the intestine is indeed ruptured, the bacteria within it have entered the abdominal cavity, causing an infection. That would explain the fever."

"I had ear infections as a child," I say defiantly. "My doctor always treated them with antibiotics. He did not remove my ears."

"I have not suggested removing anything, Your Goodness," Skutch replies. "And there is no doubt that she will require antibiotics. But they alone are not enough. The rupture needs to be found and sutured. The infection needs to be cleaned out. It's not a particularly difficult operation, all things considered. But it is imperative that it is performed as soon as possible."

"You yourself said that you don't treat humans, perhaps you don't understand…" I continue to protest.

"Glinda, hush," Elphie says. "He's right. I have enough knowledge of medicine to know."

"Why didn't you tell me, then?" I ask, feeling hurt by her admission. "Why didn't you ask for help sooner?" She doesn't answer. Instead, she turns back to Skutch.

"Without surgery," Elphie asks, her voice steadier than it was mere moments ago, "how long do I have?"

Skutch lowers his head. "Two or three days at most," he says. "You've been holding out well but things could take a turn for the worse rather quickly. Between the pressure that the hemorrhaging puts on your organs and the infection spreading through your system, it would be a rapid… deterioration."

I barely hear the last word over the violent hammering of my heart. My thoughts stray to the nightmare in which I found Elphie in the woods with the flesh torn from her body, muscle and bone exposed beneath. The vision is far too close for comfort now. I remember her voice coldly observing, _you are still whole._ But I am not whole; not without her. I can't lose her now! My throat constricts and dizziness overtakes me.

"Glinda?" I hear the concern in Elphie's voice as my vision goes blurry.

* * *

I awaken to purring. I am lying on my back, legs resting high upon a pile of pillows. Skutch is checking my airways. I instinctively turn my face away from his warm fishy breath toward Elphie. She reaches out and strokes my cheek. "I'm here, my sweet," she says softly, sadly. She is facing the prospect of imminent death if someone doesn't open her up and clean out her insides. Yet I am the one succumbing to fainting spells.

"Were you _planning_ on just dying on me?" I ask incredulously.

"No… I… I don't know," she admits, looking like a frightened child. "I just don't know that this can be fixed."

"It can be fixed," Skutch says firmly, "by a surgeon."

"Who will skin me alive and present my hide to the Wizard," Elphie replies defensively.

"We won't allow that to happen," Fiyero says. He apparently came back into the room while I was… out.

"Peritonitis will kill you before the Wizard's armies can reach this place," Skutch says. "Unless you want me to talk one of your friends here through the procedure with the use of kitchen utensils." For a moment, Elphie looks like she's actually considering the Cat's suggestion. She looks to me then to Fiyero and shakes her head. A shiver goes down my spine as I realize that if it were actually possible for her to operate on herself she'd do it without a moment's hesitation. She's always been tough as nails, except when it comes to placing herself into another's hands. I can understand. I don't even want to think about her unconscious, prone, at the mercy of a stranger's blade. But if what Skutch is saying is true, it's the only chance that she has.

Perhaps she does need to be strong now: strong enough to accept a risk instead of resigning herself to a terrible inevitability. "Elphie," I whimper, finally allowing my eyes to well with the tears that have been threatening all night. I nuzzle against her shoulder, letting them leak out against the flannel of her nightshirt. I don't care that Fiyero and Skutch are watching. Reflexively, she starts petting my hair again. I have just extended to her the dignity of not being the weakest person in the room. Hopefully it does something for her resolve.

"When one of my Animal patients requires a surgeon I refer them to Dr. Vadrin," Skutch says. "He lives in the valley to the South, just about an hour away on foot. If he's available, I'm certain he can be here in no time. I can go fetch him…"

"I can go fetch him," Fiyero volunteers, looking at the Cat. "It's better if you stay here in the meantime to attend to her. You might not be a surgeon, but you are a doctor, regardless of your diploma." Wow. Stop the presses: my former fiancé actually has a good idea. But he starts to move far too quickly in the direction of the door.

"Hold your skarks!" I command sharply. Well, as sharply as I can, considering that I am curled like a kitten against Elphie's side. She has fallen surprisingly quiet, stroking me as if in a daze. "We need a plan of some sort," I continue in a slightly meeker voice. "We can't just bring the doctor in here all nonchalant to realize that his patient is the Wicked Witch of the West."

"We can say, umm, she's just… afflicted with the same…" Fiyero struggles for a word to describe Elphie's color without offending her.

"Verdigris," I finish, before he can blurt out something far worse. "Yes, of course, because there are plenty of green people walking around Oz." I think back to the green-painted busker in the Emerald City. No, it wouldn't do to say that Elphie's been making a living as a painted statue-impersonator here in the Vinkus wilderness. That's almost as absurd as Fiyero's initial idea of a colorblind doctor. Wait! "Elphie?" I ask, tugging at her shirt collar. "Is there a spell in the Grimmerie to affect one's vision?"

"You don't want to affect the vision of a surgeon," Skutch warns.

"Not a blinding spell," I say, "but colorblindness? Or perhaps some sort of glamour or concealment on her, rather than him?"

"I could make myself grow impressively large warts," Elphie answers, the tiniest hint of a smirk playing upon her lips.

"That won't help your cause," I tell her.

"No, my sweet, there isn't spell I've found to take care of _this_," she says, waving her arms in such a way as to indicate her skin. "If there was one my life on the run would have been substantially easier, with far fewer pitchforks aimed in my general direction."

"Okay, scratch that idea," says Fiyero. "Perhaps, we could say that she was cursed with her color by the Wicked Witch herself."

"And how do you go about explaining _us_?" I ask. "You, Prince of the Vinkus and former Gale Force captain, wanted by His Ozness on charges of treason. And me, presumably kidnapped and under some spell." I know that's what Morrible will say; she wouldn't dare accuse me of defecting of my own will. The people like me too much. If she claims that magic is at work, it will render everything I say irrelevant in the public perception.

"We could pretend that this entire time, we've been working undercover for the Wizard in order to capture her," Fiyero says. "Of course, now that we've captured her, her life must be saved so that she can be brought back to the Emerald City for a proper trial. His Ozness would command it himself; he would want to see a proper example made of her for his people."

"Well, it's not the most foolproof idea out there," I say.

"Will any plan be?" asks the Skutch. "This is about as believable as it is going to get. We can't afford to waste any more time."

"I will take the broom," Fiyero says matter-of-factly. "It will cut the trip in half."

"You are not taking my broom!" barks Elphie. "You do not know how to fly it, let alone with a passenger. Even if you don't kill yourself before you reach this doctor, you will never be able to persuade him to get on!" Fiyero ignores her, striding across the room to where the broom leans against the wall. Elphie jerks her hand into the air and the broom rises to the ceiling above him, hovering out of his reach.

"Leave the broom, Master Fiyero," Skutch commands sharply. He ignores him. The Cat stands on all fours, arching his back and letting out a shrill hiss. "I said leave it!" he repeats. "She's right and you're upsetting her. Stress is the last thing that she needs!" Fiyero stops reaching for the broom and turns back to glance sheepishly in our direction.

"Take care of her, Skutch. No, take care of _them_," he says. And without another word, he is out the door. Elphie gasps, folding herself up as the broom crashes back to the floor. I have my arms around her in an instant. Her entire body is tense and trembling. I can feel the heat rising from her skin. I cup her chin firmly in my hand, resting my forehead against her cheek.

"Relax," I tell her softly. "Deep breaths, Elphie." Despite the calm I am trying to project, I want to hurt Fiyero for provoking her to use magic. Even the tiniest bit, I'm sure, is draining in her condition. Deep down, I know it isn't his fault. He's just as clueless as I am and he wants to do whatever he can to help her. Slowly her breathing quiets. But she won't look at me or at Skutch, who stands perfectly still at the end of the bed.

"You two need to be alone," he observes quite astutely.

"Thank you, sir, please make yourself at home in one of the rooms here," I say.

"Come for me if anything changes, Your Goodness," the Cat says quietly before making a quick bow and padding out of the room.

"Elphie," I coax after he leaves, "let me rub your back. This tension can't be good for you." I place my hand between her shoulder blades.

"I don't need my back rubbed," she hisses, almost as impressively as Skutch did, as she sits up ramrod straight. "I have been on my own for four years and I've always taken care of myself! What I need is for everyone to stop prancing around all high and mighty, making decisions for me as if I'm a child! As if they know what is best for me and I do not! It's insufferable! Absolutely insufferable!" I don't say anything in response. I let go of her, resting my arms in my lap. If she needs to rant I will give her the space and the silence she needs to do it.

Instead of continuing on her tirade, though, she falls silent. "What makes me the angriest is that I'm wrong. If you and Fiyero were not making decisions for me now, I'd be too paralyzed to do anything. I would curl into a ball beneath a pine in the Gillikin Forrest to die and decompose."

"Anyone would be paralyzed," I assure her.

"I know what you did when Fiyero and Skutch were here, and I thank you for that."

"What? Oh, this," I raise a hand to my damp eyelashes and shrug. "I'm used to being the weak one. It seems to be my lot in life. It wasn't the weakness that was the act, anyway. I've been trying all night not to fall apart."

"Oh Glinda, my sweet," Elphie pulls me closer to her, reclining us both to the bed. The palm of her hand slides up the back of my neck. "Don't lock up your emotions for my sake. Your tears do not make you weak. I've always quite admired your ability to wear your heart on your sleeve; to let yourself be held and coddled and stroked when you need to. I have to admit that I have very much enjoyed doing those things for you. Let me do them for you now. That's the biggest comfort you can give me." I nod, letting out a tiny sniffle. In response she kisses my forehead. "Let me tell you, if there was a spell in the Grimmerie that would have allowed me, I'd have come to you in the palace with skin the color of milk."

"No," I shake my head, "I wouldn't have stood for that. Since we've been together again I know we haven't had much time to talk, but I thought I expressed this to you back at the Emerald Marquise all those years ago. Perhaps I wasn't as explicit as I should have been but I thought we were beyond this insecurity of yours. I love every inch of your skin exactly as it is. And when you are well again, I fully intend to show you exactly how much I love it. With kisses." I smile. If that isn't motivation, I don't know what is.

"_If_ I'm well again," she tries to correct me.

"You will be well again. Maybe not in a few days, but soon enough," I assure her. "I am patient and so are my lips."

"Glinda, if the worst comes to pass…" My chest clenches.

"It won't," I barely manage to exhale. She begins to shiver again.

"You need more blankets," I say.

"No," she whispers, "I need you. More than anything else in Oz, I need you." So I stay wrapped in her arms until she is claimed by a fitful slumber. However, I cannot resign myself to sleep. Slowly, with the utmost care, I extract myself from her wiry limbs, exiting the room on tiptoe. I return in barely a moment with an armload of blankets, piling one after another on her until her trembling finally ceases. Then I stalk back out into the hallway again.

* * *

I quickly find the room Fiyero has laid claim to; it is the only room with an unmade bed. (Or at least, the only room with an unmade bed of which I was not the cause. I desecrated the majority of the guest quarters in my gathering of blankets.) Fiyero's room at Kiamo Ko is not as dirty as his dorm in Shiz, nor as messy as his cramped quarters in the palace. But the slippers tossed carelessly in the center of the room, the bunched up sheets and an empty plate with a fork resting at its center are more than enough evidence that he has been sleeping here. I pace the length of the floor, peering into the small closet and each of the nightstand drawers. I lift the pillow, searching beneath it. Then I move the mattress itself. What I'm looking for is not here.

I make my way downstairs, checking the foyer of the castle where we entered, the large sitting room, the dining room… Finally, I remember the stack of books on the kitchen counter. Surely Fiyero is not that stupid, is he? Perhaps he is. Because when I shut the cover of _Masculine Cooking_ and move it aside, I am greeted by the worn leather cover of the Grimmerie. My hands tremble as I reach for the ancient book of spells. I've only seen it once before, briefly, in the Wizard's palace. I didn't touch it. Morrible would not permit me. I can almost imagine her hands wrenching it away from me now.

As my hand settles upon the cover, I feel unworthy. This book is for people with true talent, whereas I've only had the tiniest flickers of magic, feats so small they could be considered accidents. I don't think Elphie would be pleased to see me holding the book now. She told me to leave the Grimmerie be. She told me that there are no spells inside it which will accomplish what I want to do: to disguise her or cast a haze over the eyes of the surgeon. But I can't help but think perhaps there is something she missed within its pages, something that can help us now.

Gently, I settle myself on the floor, leaning back against the counter. The pressure of cold stone against my back keeps me focused and alert. I rest the Grimmerie on my crossed legs and open it to the first page. It is as I feared: I cannot read a single word.

The hand-scrawled text is completely foreign to me; a language I have never seen before. The letters seem to dance and float across the page, constantly rearranging themselves. I flip to the next page and then the next. "Colorblinding," I whisper aloud as if I am making a request of the book, "Concealment." But the swirling text makes no move to answer me. I continue flipping through the pages, more quickly and desperately now. I stare at the nonsensical letters before me until my eyes cross and my head aches. My efforts feel fruitless, but I cannot stop now. I'd give anything to save Elphie. I'd give everything that I have.

No sooner has that thought flickered across my consciousness than suddenly a spell is before me, clear as day – not a colorblinding spell but something else entirely.

"_Heal the wound. Cleanse the infection. Restore the blood."_

A healing spell! Nothing could be farther beyond my skills, yet that is what I seem to be looking at. Surely I could not cast it? Elphie herself has only cast healing spells twice and from what she's told me it took weeks for her to recover. My skills would be nowhere near adequate…

I blink and the spell is gone; once again I am staring at gibberish. Perhaps exhaustion is catching up to me. It's nearly three in the morning. I run my fingertips over the page, willing to words to reappear. They do not. I stand, tearing a page from Fiyero's cookbook to use as a marker. Then I close the Grimmerie and carry it back up to the bedroom. It is a last resort, I tell myself: a last resort nearly destined to fail, but one that I am willing to try nonetheless if the need arises.

* * *

"And just where were you?" Elphie asks as I step into the room. Her voice startles me; I nearly drop the book. I cannot see her face in the dim light. I cannot decipher her tone but there is something about it that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. There's a sharpness to her that I don't recognize: something suspicious; accusatory It's so different from how gently and kindly she was speaking to me earlier. "Is that what I think it is in your hand?" she asks.

"Elphie, you were asleep!" is my feeble response.

"I've become a very light sleeper in these past few years. Call it a survival mechanism."

"You are safe here, my love. You need to sleep now for the sake of your health," I protest.

"Are _you_ safe, Glinda?" she asks pointedly. "What were you looking for in the Grimmerie?"

"I was looking for a spell," I admit, "like the one we talked about earlier. Some sort of colorblinding spell." There is no point in lying about it. I walk back to the bed, sitting down beside her with Grimmerie resting upon my lap. "I didn't find it though."

"I told you that you wouldn't. Were you able to read anything in the book?" She reaches out, resting her hand on its cover as if it is an old friend. I wish she would rest her hand on my leg instead, but there is something about the way she is acting that is disconcerting.

"It was the oddest thing," I say, unsure of whether to confess. "There was only one thing I could read. It seemed to be a healing spell."

"Fuckery!" she growls. A bright white glow appears around her hand, radiating out to encompass the Grimmerie. It surrounds the book entirely, and then it is gone, the Grimmerie with it. "That takes care of that," she says. "Bastard book. It gets no say in this."

"What are you talking about, Elphie? What's going on?" I clutch her arm. "Where did the Grimmerie go?"

"It went back into its traveling valise," she says, a bit calmer now. "And no one knows where that is except for me. I should have warned you before, but I was afraid of giving you ideas. The Grimmerie isn't like other books. It has, one could say, a bit of a life force to it. It has its own agenda which I don't always trust. It revealed that spell to you precisely because it wants you to use it."

"If the Grimmerie thinks I could perform the spell, what would be the harm in trying?" I ask. "I know I'm likely to fail, but if I succeed… Then we don't have to worry about a surgeon or anything... You'd be all right; as good as new. It will be like none of this ever happened."

"If you succeed, you could very well die," Elphie says seriously. "I told you that healing spells are some of the most demanding magic there is. A novice like you could end up channeling too much of your life force through the spell. The Grimmerie doesn't care if you trade your life for mine, but I do. Oh, Oz, I do." She embraces me tightly, arms curling around my shoulders.

"I didn't know," I say.

"Spells don't come with warning labels," she whispers against my forehead. "My sweet, we need to talk. There are some things I need to say while I am still lucid, because I don't know how long that will last. Please don't try to stop me this time. I just need you to hear me out. If the worst should come to pass, I don't want you to try to clear my name or take up my cause."

I bury my face into her shoulder, holding her as if I believe that my embrace alone could heal her. "Why not?" I ask in little more than a whisper.

"I don't want you to suffer as I have. I will tell Fiyero – and only Fiyero –where the Grimmerie is. That way, if I am gone, he will take it. He will bear its burden. He will bear it better for the fact that he's completely illiterate to magic. He won't be inclined to use it. He won't draw attention to the book's whereabouts. There is nothing for you in its pages but danger. If it's in your possession, you will be hunted to the edges of Oz. Not only by the Wizard and Morrible, but by anyone and everyone who seeks its power."

Grimmerie or not, if – Oz forbid – I lose her, fighting is the only thing I will be able to do. Carrying on her work is the only alternative to giving up on life completely. But I can't find the words to tell her that. Even to speak them aloud is to admit to the possibility. I cannot lose her; not after I've waited for so long for us to finally be together! Not before she's found the happiness she so rightfully deserves. I intend to hang onto her with everything that I have. And I do. I cling to her like the tiniest spark of flame in the dead of winter; like the last drop of water in a desert.

"If the worst comes to pass, I want you to go back to your family in Frottica, or seek out one of your friends. I want you to lay low and keep your whereabouts unknown to the palace. Let those who love you take care of you, and take care of yourself, above all else."

The Elphie I knew at Shiz wanted nothing more than for me to step out of my own self-centered haze and actually notice the systems around me. She wanted me to take a stand for something bigger. The Elphie holding me now, pressing the lightest of kisses to my forehead, does not want these things. She only wants me safe and it breaks my heart. But I won't back down. "Weren't you once committed to my betterment as a person?" I ask weakly.

"I am committed to your safety and your happiness, both things which this supposed personal betterment can sometimes preclude. I should know better than anyone. You are the most precious thing to me in Oz," she insists.

"I can't put myself before everyone else," I protest. "Maybe I was that person once, but I'm not anymore. I am going to prove to you that I'm not. I'm going to be the best person I can be. Besides, without you there is no happiness."

"I am not resigned as you thought I was before, my sweet. I do not want to leave the Animals and I most certainly do not want to leave you. It's been hard to believe that you're back in my life. I've been unable to see, unable to imagine, how we could possibly have any sort of life together. But I desperately want us to. I want to be beside you for as long as you will have me. I don't know what fate has in store for me, but want you to know that if go, it is not without a fight. It is not for lack of wanting. You are worth fighting for."

"You are worth fighting for, too. And I am going to fight beside you," I say.

"Right now, you are going to sleep beside me," she says, "really sleep. No more wanderings. Leave my battered bowels to this surgeon friend of Skutch's and give me something warm to snuggle against while we wait."


	15. Say There's No Future

_**AN:** Thanks as always for your patience. Things were busy between the holidays and my vacation in January, but now I am back at home and on a semi-reasonable schedule. I also doubt I will struggle with Chapter 16 as much as I did with this one, so you can expect the next update in a more timely fashion. Thanks to Ridic Mav for beta-ing again and thanks to DM for trying. (I know your schedule is busy, Muffin, and your efforts are appreciated as well as your friendship.)_

**Chapter Fifteen: Say There's No Future**

I sleep, but not well. Dreams and reality intertwine; frightening images flicker past my eyes.

_I am in an outhouse in Quadling County. The heat is sweltering – even more so in my engagement ball dress, which is melting away from my body like wax. Helene waits for me outside the door, cradling a dead infant with green skin._

Elphie's body is slick with sweat beside me and I reach over, dabbing her forehead with a cool damp washcloth I don't remember even getting, as she cries out softly in her sleep. "Hush," I whisper soothingly, continuing to dab at her face and neck.

_She is crying out for me from the bathroom. She is in the tub but I can't tell where her skin ends and where the water begins._

I rest my hand on her chest to make sure she is still breathing. My fingertips grapple to find her pulse just above her collarbone. It is racing. Or maybe that's my own.

_Her unconscious body is stretched out across the counter in the kitchen of Kiamo Ko. A man is hovering over her with a knife; he is the Wizard. No, he is her father. He cuts some unknown organ from her body and lifts it to his hungry mouth._

I shiver. She stirs beside me and cries out again as she accidentally rolls partway onto her stomach.

_I am watching her disappear out the attic window of the Emerald Palace all over again, into a sky the color of blood._

* * *

The first notes of sunrise are already flooding past the heavy dark curtains of the bedroom, bathing the stone walls in a pale shade of pink. I stare mindlessly at the display of light, barely even aware that my eyes have gone dry for lack of blinking. There has been no sign of Fiyero.

I hear a gentle scratching sound from just outside the door. "It's me," Skutch announces softly. Elphie does not rouse at his voice, but she shifts slightly in her sleep, face wrought with discomfort. In this lighting, her skin takes on a particularly sickly hue. A fleeting pang of nausea stabs inside my own gut.

"Come in," I answer to the Bobcat. He carries a small cloth sack in his paw which he holds out to me as he approaches the bed.

"I fetched something for her pain," he offers.

"Where are Fiyero and your friend?" I ask, weary and apprehensive, as I reach out to take the bag.

"Vadrin may have been in a surgery," says Skutch apologetically. He looks a bit weary himself. "It happens. I have the utmost confidence that if he wasn't, he would have come right away. Sometimes, when a doctor hears that an Animal is in need of his services, he will take his time. He will finish dinner or his game of cards before he can be bothered to assist, and by then, sometimes it is too late." The Cat hangs his head. "But Vadrin has always been prompt in calling on my Animal patients. I can only imagine he would extend the same courtesy to a fellow human. How has Her Goodness Elphaba been sleeping?"

"Restlessly," I sigh. "She's been crying out a lot. Her fever seems to have worsened."

"So I assume Her Goodness Glinda hasn't slept well, either?" he asks, sympathy flashing in his gold eyes. The answer to his question goes without saying. "Give her the medicine," Skutch instructs softly.

I'm hesitant to disturb Elphie, but I don't want her to wake with another cry as she did so many times throughout the night, looking panicked and confused before curling up upon herself and shivering her way back to sleep. So I open the bag to withdraw a small vial of dark liquid. I squeeze her shoulder lightly, eliciting little more than a whimper. I remember her being a light sleeper during our days at Shiz; normally even the slightest movement beside her would have been enough to wake her to full alertness. But a gentle squeeze is not enough. I rub her arm gently, shaking her until she begins to stir. Then I slide my arm behind her back to help her sit up. She stares at me, bleary-eyed and unfocused, hunching over herself. "Medicine for you," I say softly, "to help with your pain."

She is obedient as I slide the small vial between her lips and tilt her head back, coaxing her to swallow. But immediately, she sputters and coughs, gagging on the thick syrup. She clutches reflexively at her stomach as her features wrench into a painful grimace.

"Water," Skutch commands. "Fetch her some water."

I clumsily leap to my feet as he takes my place on the bed, patting and rubbing Elphie's back with his paws in attempt to soothe her violent coughs. My legs tangle together as I grab one of last night's forgotten teacups, running to the bathroom to dump it out and refill it. On my way back, I spill half the water down my dress – or rather, Fiyero's mother's dress, which I never took off before I went to sleep. I thrust the half-empty cup into Elphie's fingers. She takes a hard gulp, which stills her coughs, but her face looks just as pained as she swallows the liquid. The teacup slips from her hands and the remainder of the water spills on the sheets. Thankfully, it is easily mopped up with a washcloth, but Elphie stares down at the sheets, shaking. So I cast the cloth aside.

"I'm so sorry," I say, resting my fingers lightly on her forearm. "I didn't realize that it was going to gag you…" She opens her mouth to speak then lets out another dry cough. Her face clearly communicates frustration; agitation at being unable to say anything in response. She scrunches her nose and bites her lip. "Shh," I tell her, "rest." I trace my nails in small circles over the skin of her arm. Skutch curls up against her side, launching into a soothing purr. Her body tenses, at first resisting the comfort, then giving in to fall asleep again.

"The medication also has a sedative effect," Skutch says quietly. "It will keep her from being so worked up." He studies me. "Your Goodness, you have been very attentive, but I would like you to take a break for your own health. Stretch your legs, have some breakfast. I will stay right here."

"I can't even begin to think about food," I say. The emptiness of my stomach mirrors the hollow dread I feel; the rising fear that help will come too late.

"At least have yourself some tea, then." He smiles faintly but warmly. I don't have the heart to return the gesture.

Instead of going to the kitchen, I find my way to the topmost tower of Kiamo Ko, straining my eyes against the landscape for any sign of Fiyero. I cannot spot a single figure in the distance. Where in Oz is he? How long can Elphie last like this?

* * *

Skutch's remedy seems to have helped with Elphie's pain, because she sleeps uninterrupted for the rest of the morning. However, each passing moment is agony to me. My breaths come shallow. My chest is tight. I am periodically overcome by bouts of dizziness, of which I say nothing to Skutch for fear of being dismissed again. Though I am loath to admit, I appreciate his silent companionship. We sit like sentries on either side of Elphie's sleeping form. Every hour or so, he glances over at me and I wake her for just long enough to make her take a few sips of water. Skutch is concerned that she's dehydrated, but a few sips at once are all she can take. It's hard to see her struggle with such a simple task. And for those few brief moments of consciousness, she doesn't speak; she just stares at me as if in a daze. I tell myself it must be the effects of the medication.

For what water Elphie does drink she hasn't needed to use the toilet. That only adds to the sinking feeling of dread in my chest. I know more about magic than medicine – and that's not saying much – but I take it as evidence that her body is beginning to shut down. I'm afraid to ask Skutch if this is the case, lest he confirm my fears. As morning moves into afternoon and the sun passes its highest point in the Vinkun sky, I am ready to jump out of my skin with anxiety. I am scared that any second, Elphie will simply cease to breathe. I want to freeze time. In a moment of unadulterated panic, I begin to grasp for her fingers beneath the sheets.

Skutch raises his head to look at me and finally breaks the silence between us. "I must admit," he says, "I'm curious how the two of you ever became acquainted."

My hand finds Elphie's and wraps around it. Her fingers twitch ever-so-slightly. "University," I reply with a sad sigh, thinking back to easier times. "We were the best of friends. Roommates, actually."

"I am guessing that one so esteemed as yourself went to Shiz," he says.

I nod.

"I went to Wiccasand," he offers. "Even then, they had already segregated Animals into our own dormitories, which were naturally in the most ill-repaired and drafty building on campus. The idiots had me rooming with a Squirrel. I am all for civility, but it's nevertheless hard to control one's natural instincts around a creature so small and… twitchy. I somehow managed to restrain myself from eating Fredrick, if only to avoid expulsion."

I appreciate the attempt at humor, but when I try to pull the corners of my mouth into a smile, it feels more like a wince. I want to retreat back inside myself, but the Cat keeps on talking to me.

"And the two of you have managed to maintain your closeness even in your opposing positions, with you working for the Wizard and her working against him?"

"We didn't," I say regretfully. "But when she came back into my life, I decided that I could never let her go again. I love her entirely too much." I assume the Bobcat has already gleaned the nature of my relationship with Elphie – or what little of one we've been able to have – and if he hasn't, he is dense. Either way, I don't care what he thinks of it.

"You've made an enormous sacrifice," Skutch says thoughtfully. "You know you will lose the respect and esteem of most of the humans in Oz. I can only hope that the respect and esteem of nearly all of the Animals helps to make up for it. Her Goodness Elphaba is a hero among us."

"The bigger sacrifice was when I left her to be with the Wizard," I say, surprised at the truth of my words, and surprised that I can be so honest with an Animal I hardly know. But now that I've opened up it seems I cannot stop the words from pouring forth. "I have to admit, I almost wonder if the universe is punishing me for not standing by her sooner by threatening to take her away from me so cruelly." My entire body shudders at the prospect. I feel a painful burning sensation in the center of my chest.

"Oh, I doubt that, Your Goodness," the Cat says reassuringly. "You make a fine mate for Her Goodness, and if the universe was fair in dealing out punishments, I don't think this would have befallen the two of you. There are those out there who are far more deserving of such pain yet they sit comfortably in all our houses of government, continuing to inflict it upon others without sympathy. What goes around comes around, they say. But everything I've seen would suggest otherwise." It is obvious that Skutch has seen a lot of unfairness in his time, most likely befalling his Animal friends and colleagues. But he doesn't indulge himself in lamenting it now. His focus returns quickly to the task at hand. "It's time for her water again."

I reach for the teacup and shake Elphie's shoulder gently to rouse her. "Galinda," she says, opening her eyes. On one hand, I am relieved to hear her speak rather than cough or whimper. But I'm shocked by what she's called me. I shiver. Her adaptation to my new name was flawless; she hasn't spoken my old name once since I changed it. Her voice is thick and heavy. "Galinda," she slurs as if drunk, turning her head to stare at Skutch, "don't be mad at me."

"I'm not," I say, wiping her brow and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not at all. Please drink some water for me now."

"I'm not well," she says.

"I know. That's why you need the water," I answer as calmly as I can. I manage to get a few drops into her mouth before she's shoving the glass away and waving her hands around her in a frenzied motion. She is definitely beginning to lose her presence of mind. This is what she was afraid of the most. And she certainly seems afraid now.

"Someone needs to get him to safety," she says, voice growing more frantic. "Fiyero is gone. I don't know where. Fiyero was supposed to take the cub, but he's probably off somewhere cavorting. Where are my glasses? I can't see a thing!" I try to take her hand in my own again. She yanks it back. For one terrifying second her entire body goes slack. Then her right eye begins to twitch violently; her mouth opens and closes as a line of drool runs from its corner down her cheek. I would reach out to wipe it away, but I'm so scared. Scared for her and of her all at once.

"She's seizing, Glinda," Skutch tells me. I almost ask, _seizing what_? But I realize he means she's having a seizure. "It will pass, but we can't let her fall out of bed or hit her head on anything in the meantime."

With one paw he turns her face to the side just as she vomits on the sheets; a mixture of bile and blood. I clench my teeth and hold my breath to keep from being sick myself, remaining firmly planted on the edge of the bed to prevent her from rolling out. Elphie's limbs thrash against the mattress. I feel like my heart is going to stop. Eventually, she falls still again. Her chest rises and falls in shaky but even breaths. Skutch gives me a nod as if he senses my need to get away for a moment. I run to the bathroom, gulping in as much air as I can and splashing water on my face. After my head stops spinning I find another rag and proceed to clean up the new mess. Elphie starts to come to as I wipe her face. She reaches for my hand and holds it to her cheek, looking as frightened as I've ever seen her.

* * *

Elphie does not believe in any god, named or otherwise. She does not believe in an afterlife. At least, that was what she told me when we were still at Shiz. It's possible that her views have changed since she's been out in the world, but I somehow doubt it. There is something about the world that, if anything, makes you believe even less. Or at least, it has made me believe less – not that I'm really sure what it was that I once believed in. My family was never particularly religious, but I never wanted for anything, and so it was easy to believe that there was some benevolent deity looking out over me. Until I went on my tour of Oz and saw the poverty, the hunger, the oppression… It's impossible to believe that any god would let this happen.

Regardless, I find myself praying – silently, in my head, because I fear to do otherwise would disrespect Elphie. _Please don't let her die. Please, no more seizures. Please, let Fiyero return quickly with the doctor._ By now, I am far more frightened by her decline than what it will take to stop it. I hope the surgeon's hands are quick and precise.

Elphie doesn't seize again. But she is frighteningly quiet and still; it's almost as if she is not in the room at all. The walls are bathed in orange light from the setting sun when I finally hear the heavy clomp of boots in the hallway. There is no knock at the door, just a rough shout. "Coming in!" The voice is Fiyero's, but the hand that opens the door belongs to the surgeon. He is the expected picture of a doctor, with thin-rimmed spectacles and iron-gray hair, but the expression he wears is one of absolute dread.

Fiyero stands behind him, pressing a pistol into the back of his head. I've been terrified all day but the terror I feel now is something altogether new. It wraps around my throat, stealing away my breath as I sit up bolt-straight on the edge of the bed. This was not the plan at all. Skutch stands on the mattress, back arched, fur on end.

"Fiyero! What in Oz are you doing?" I finally choke out.

"What is he doing?" Skutch echoes.

"I'm doing what I have to," Fiyero says, eyes narrowed at the both of us. There are heavy dark circles below them; he looks completely and utterly exhausted. He hasn't slept in over twenty-four hours. But his expression is wild. I don't think I've ever seen him quite so much on edge, even when he was pointing his gun at the Wizard. I've never seen him look so dangerous.

"Put the gun down, Master Fiyero," Skutch says. "I'm sure we can talk about this reasonably."

"There is no reasoning with this madman, Skutch!" Vadrin says, the panic obvious in his voice. "He thinks I'll believe that he's working for the Wizard!" It is only then that the surgeon notices me. I'm sure I look a fright: my dress is rumpled, my hair is in shambles and are undoubtedly dark circles beneath my eyes to match Fiyero's. Yet Vadrin's eyes widen in recognition as they meet with mine.

"Glinda the Good?" he asks in surprise.

"No, it's the Ozma," Fiyero growls. "Do you believe that I'm following the Wizard's orders _now_? Your patient is beside Glinda, in that bed." He shoves the pistol harder into the back of Vadrin's head, forcing him to look at Elphie. At the sight of her, the surgeon drops his heavy bag of instruments to the floor, hands shaking. It's obvious that he is afraid of her. She is awakened by the clamor, looking confused and frightened. I clutch her shoulder. Her hand folds weakly over mine. Her skin is clammy. Her grip is weak.

"Glinda?" she whimpers, disoriented.

"Elphie," I whisper back. "It's going to be okay." But I am not sure of this in the slightest.

"He expects me to operate on… _that_," Vadrin says to Skutch, voice full of disdain. I clench my teeth tightly. Elphie is not a _that_.

"By the orders of his Ozness, you shall save her," Fiyero commands sharply. "You shall treat her injury so that she can be granted fair trial." Fiyero is a very poor actor; I'm not even sure why he's keeping up the act. It is blatantly obvious where his loyalties lie.

"Do not take me for a fool," the surgeon says, still trembling, though it is becoming unclear whether it is out of fear or rage. "I think Oz as a whole would call it more than fair to let this monstrosity die, our Wizard among them. You, Prince, are a terrorist."

"Terrorist is a strong word," I say, giving Elphie's hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before I let go of her and rise from the bed. I know I don't currently make the most regal or commanding presentation, but my back is straight as my eyes stare into the surgeon's. And I can give a far better speech than Fiyero ever could. My words should still hold some influence, because Wizard be damned, I am still Glinda the Good. Vadrin may call Elphie a monstrosity, but perhaps I can still appeal to his humanity. Perhaps I can show him hers. "You would do well to bow before me, or at the very least stop blubbering and listen to what I have to say," I tell him.

He blinks at me, jaw slack with surprise. He does not prostrate himself. But at least he falls silent.

"I am not going to give you any story," I say, leveling a glare at Fiyero, "because you deserve the truth. All of Oz deserves the truth, and this woman has been trying to tell it for years. I can confirm all that she says. There is so much about the Wizard you don't know; so many things he keeps his loyal subjects blind to. I have abdicated from my position because I can no longer be party to a culture of deception. It is a culture that Elphaba chose to stand against long ago and for that she has been branded wicked. Please don't think of her as wicked now. She is my friend – my very dear friend. She could just as easily be your friend, your sister, your daughter… Green skin or not, she is human beneath it, and she is in a great deal of pain. She is suffering. She is dying. She is dying as we speak and you are the only hope that she has. Please, doctor, show some compassion."

"I may be known as somewhat liberal in the medical field because of my willingness to treat Animals, but compassion only goes so far," Vadrin says. "It does not extend to criminals of the worst degree."

"She's only been trying to help the Animals," I plead.

"She has been fighting for us," Skutch says.

"Just because I treat your patients, Cat, does not mean I think that they belong in schools, in public office, or in _medicine_," the surgeon says pointedly. "These are radical notions that she perpetuates; radical notions you've been foolishly swept up in. I cannot condone her actions against our Wizard, or yours. I cannot support them. Let her die and be judged for her deeds by the Unnamed God."

"No more of this," Fiyero commands, voice slow and steady as he shoves his pistol into the back of Vadrin's skull, forcing his head forward. "Open your bag, gramps. There will be no more questions or accusations. Your career is in medicine, not in persecution and you are the one who is getting swept up in notions that are beyond you. Now you are going to shut up and do your job. Elphaba lives, you live. But one slip of your hand and your brains will get blown to the ceiling."

The surgeon looks at his bag, then at Elphie, then at me. He seems at a loss for what to do. Then his shoulders go slack.

"Kill me, then, if that's what you mean to do," he says resolutely, shutting his eyes and bracing himself for the inevitable blow. His voice becomes a bit more arrogant as he says, "Kill me, and I shall die a hero."

Fiyero shoves the gun harder into Vadrin's head, threatening to do just that. My heart is ready to burst from my chest; he is really going to do it. This man – our only hope – has proven himself to be no hope at all. But if he dies it's sealed – Elphie will die too. I believe Fiyero pulls the trigger, but I am not sure, because nothing comes from the barrel of the gun besides a cascade of poppy petals, red as blood. They drift slowly down to the floor in the stale air of the room.

I look to Elphie; her eyes are closed but her features are focused in concentration, fists clenched tight as she chants the last words of a spell. "Elphie!" I cry out in shock. "Please… don't hurt yourself!"

But her words are for Fiyero now. "Don't stoop so low!" she says hoarsely to him.

"Elphaba, I'm sorry," he whispers, dropping the gun to the floor and clutching a hand to his chest as he watches the last of the petals fall.

Elphie's eyes move from his to lock with mine for a brief second. "At least… should prove… I'm not wicked." The corners of her mouth turn up in the smallest of smiles then her eyes roll back into her head. I scream. She spasms once, collapsing onto the mattress. For just a moment she was here with us again; not at Shiz or in the dreary realm between life and death but really here. Now she has used the last of her strength to save a man that wouldn't save her, and she falls into the throes of another seizure.

"Glinda!" Skutch barks. "Go to her! Don't let her damage herself!" So I do; this time I'm not afraid. I lay down on the bed beside her, wrapping my arms and around her to keep her as still as possible as she convulses.

Vadrin stands like a statue in the middle of the floor where he would have been gunned down, beside a trembling Fiyero. "Now will you save her? Now that she's extended the same courtesy to you?" Skutch implores angrily.

"No," the surgeon says. "No, I cannot."

"Bastard!" the Cat growls as he makes a savage leap at Vadrin, knocking him to the floor. Elphie flails hard in my arms as the surgeon struggles beneath Skutch, who finally claps him in the head with a gigantic paw, rendering him unconscious. Elphie falls still then, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps. I sit up and pull her head into my lap, pleading with her to live. "Hold out," I whisper desperately, "please, my love, hold out."

Fiyero has collapsed to his knees and is sobbing violently into his arms. I cannot tell if time is moving quickly or slowly. It all melts together; I have a distinct sense of the past and the future happening all at once. I hang as tightly as I can to the woman in my arms. I cling to the present; to the life which is slipping away far too quickly beneath my fingers.

"Pull yourself together!" Skutch commands of Fiyero, clapping him on the shoulder with one of his paws. "Go wash your arms up to the elbows with the coarsest soap you have. Scrub them until they are raw." I realize what the Cat intends. He means for Fiyero to do what Vadrin refused to, under his instruction. We've completely run out of options. I feel frozen, as if in a dream, cradling Elphie's head and stroking her face. Fiyero begins to stand, then doubles over in another sob. His hands will be unable to hold a scalpel. They will not be steady. He will sever some vital artery. She will die with his hands inside her.

"No," I say, resolutely. "No, Skutch. He can't do this!"

"I know it's gruesome, but it's the only way. One of the two of you has to do it, and I can't in good conscience allow you to be the one. Please, Your Goodness, try to understand, we can't let her go without a fight. Not when she's fought so hard. We need to act now or she doesn't have a chance."

"I don't intend to stand by and let her die, but this will surely kill her! I can't let Fiyero bear that burden. _I_ can't bear that burden. So let me bear the one of saving her. Magic is our only hope now."

"But you have no real power," Fiyero protests. His tone is not cruel or accusing; it's just completely and totally broken.

"I have some, Fiyero. Precious little, but maybe by some miracle it will be enough. I need to find the Grimmerie. Did she tell you where it is?" No sooner have I asked than I realize that she hasn't spoken to him since he left last night. He has no idea where the book is. No one knows except Elphie, who is unconscious and fading away as we speak. She said it was in her traveling valise. I look at Fiyero again. "Did she have a suitcase before? A satchel? Anything that she carried here, or had you carry?"

"Nothing but her broom and the clothes on her back," Fiyero says, voice still heavy with tears. I look around me. Elphie's cloak is draped inconspicously over a chair. I've thrown out her tattered dress – there is no way the book was inside it. Her hat is sitting on the dresser, so I check beneath it. There is nothing. Panic bubbles up into my throat. Where would she hide it? She's never had much to hide – only that little green bottle of her mother's that she always kept under her pillow. The pillow!

I rush back to the bed and sure enough, there is the bottle, small and unsuspecting as ever against the black of the sheets. I grip the cork between my fingers and pull it out. Immediately, smoke begins to funnel from its open mouth into the air. I turn the bottle upside-down. A tiny drop of green liquid falls into my open palm – all that is left of Elphaba's mother's favorite draught. The droplet is instantly engulfed in smoke and light.

Fiyero gasps. Skutch's fur stands on end. There is a blinding flash of white and once my eyes can see again, I feel the weight of something in my hand. It is what I'm looking for. My wrist buckles under the sudden heaviness as I grip the Grimmerie with both hands, lowering it to the bed beside Elphie. The book is already open to the page with the healing spell, taunting me, daring me to try it. Elphie said the book has an agenda of its own. It doesn't care if I live or die, as long as I can speak the words with strong enough intent.

"Can you… really do this?" Fiyero asks skeptically. He doesn't know the risk. If he did, he would try to stop me. I can't let him know; I won't let him know. I look at Elphaba, who appears so pale and drawn beside me. Her breaths come so erratically. I cannot let this kill her. I am determined to succeed, even if it means…if it means that I do die in her place.

I feel surprisingly calm about the prospect. It's not that I'm okay with it. I'm not okay with it by any means.

Because more than anything in Oz, I want a future with Elphie. I want a lifetime beside her. Even if it is a lifetime full of uncertainty, running from the Wizard and fighting against the impossible. Even if we sleep on hard, cold ground each night, I want to fall asleep in her arms. Every morning, I want to kiss green eyelids and feel the flutter of dark lashes against my lips. I want to tell her how beautiful she is each day, until the day when she actually believes me, and even then I will not stop. It would take a lifetime to show how much I really love her; a lifetime to make up for my foolish choice of four years ago, when I put my own self-interests ahead of everything else. Not only ahead of love, but ahead of actual good, no matter how I rationalized it otherwise. I would not trade a future with Elphie for anything. Anything, except for her life. If I cannot have a future beside her, I will give my own. I will give her everything that I have; everything that I can give.

I am breaking my promise and of course she will be angry with me for it. She won't just be angry; she'll be torn apart with grief. But she'll realize that the people of Oz still need her – they may not realize this, but in time they will. And she'll have Fiyero to take care of her. Even if he can't do it as well as I can; he'll have to learn. He will have to learn when to be silent; when to let her rant and when to try to talk sense into her. He'll have to learn how, when she's at her angriest, she really just needs to be held. He'll have to learn just the right way to hold her and how much touch she'll tolerate.

Maybe someday she'll return his feelings for her, maybe not. That is up to her. I know that he is a good person. He is a noble person, even if a little dense and a little rash himself. He would be the one sacrificing himself right now if there was a way; I have no doubt of that. I meet his eye for a moment and give a small, reassuring smile. _Forgive me._

I lean down to kiss Elphie. It's quick; there's precious little time for goodbyes. I place my hands on the open pages of the Grimmerie, concentrating on the words that writhe and twist before my eyes like serpents. I try not to think of Fiyero, or of Skutch, who are both watching me now. I try not to think of dying. I try not to think of anything except Elphie. "Gensingayarada nakakagamaten fanelinanahmen dubibpadratten," I read. _Heal the wound. Cure the infection. Restore the blood._ My hands begin to tingle as I read the words again, and I reach out to place them on her body. I rest one palm in the center of her stomach, and the other, over her heart.

"Gensingayarada nakakagamaten fanelinanahmen dubibpadratten." The tingling grows stronger; no, it grows overpowering. There is a golden light collecting around my hands; around Elphie. I feel dizzy, but I continue to repeat the spell. There is a sharp pain in the palm of my right hand; a splitting sensation which travels through my entire body. I refuse to let it frighten me now. I've made my decision. I will follow this through. In one great rush, I feel all of my energy flowing out of me and into her…

_Everything that I have._


	16. Nothing Broken

_**AN:** Yeah, when I say that I think I'm going to produce a chapter in a reasonable amount of time, I'm basically just inviting the universe to throw all the things my way. ("All the things" is a Hyperbole and a Half reference. If you've never read it, google it; you'll love it.) Aside from an epilogue, this was meant to be the last chapter of Unadulterated Something. But as per usual I had too much content, so there will be a Chapter 17, and 18 will be the epilogue. At the rate I'm going, perhaps I shall have it all done by the year 2017. Thanks as always to my beta, Ridiculous Mavis, and thank you to all of you for your everlasting patience._

_Oh yeah… sexual content warning on this chapter. Not that you weren't expecting it._

**Chapter Sixteen: Nothing Broken**

I barely open my eyes a crack before the resulting invasion of light increases the throbbing pain in my head tenfold, forcing me to clamp them shut again. I feel nausea; the distinctive sensation of having drank far too much. I want nothing more than to never move again. But another sensation grapples for dominance with my unbearable headache: an equally unbearable heaviness in my bladder. I struggle to move, to find a position which will lessen the pressure.

My body is entirely uncooperative. My limbs feel as though they've been turned to stone. The palm of my right hand aches as if the skin has been scraped away in a drunken stumble.

I feel a cool hand upon my cheek. "My sweet," a far-off voice coaxes, "are you awake? Are you with me?"

"Please," is all I manage to choke out against the dry tightness of my throat.

"Please what?" I feel Elphie's arms wrap around me, pulling me up to sit, but my eyes stay firmly clenched against the light. Sitting up makes my need to pee even more excruciating. I can't tell her this; words are still evading me, so I struggle out of her grasp, inching my way toward the edge of the bed. All I have to do is get to the toilet and back, then I can go back to sleep…

"Wait, Glinda!" she cries out desperately, twining an arm around my waist. I've already gained too much momentum, though; I slide through her grasp and topple downward.

It's not a far fall. I finally open my eyes, disoriented by the room around me. The large, single bed and sparse décor tell me that we're not at Shiz. It is not as bright as it first seemed. With the curtains drawn and the dim glow of a single lamp, it is impossible to tell if it is night or day. Elphie is swift to kneel beside me, cupping my face in her hands and looking into my eyes with an intensity I don't quite understand.

"I have to pee!" I finally manage to blurt in complete and utter desperation. If she wants to study my eyelashes, she can do it some other time.

She slides back a few inches, surprised by my words. "Oh dear," she responds. "Stay here. Let me fetch you a pot."

I am insulted by the suggestion. I'm obviously terribly hungover, but I still have some dignity. I shake my head sharply, gripping at the edge of the mattress. I try to pull myself up, but my legs are like jelly. They will not bear my weight. My head swims, throbbing even worse from exertion, and I fall back with a small cry, tears welling in my eyes. I turn my head to try to keep Elphie from seeing them. But she already has.

"Don't cry," she says in an oddly sympathetic tone. "That will only make it worse. You're trying too hard. Let me help you." I sigh, allowing her to slide her hands beneath my arms and lift me to my feet. I'm terribly unsteady, even with her support. We have to walk painfully slow.

By the time we've reached the bathroom, it feels like I'm going to burst. Elphie helps me move my nightdress out of the way and sets me on the toilet, holding me upright and turning her head to give me as much privacy as possible given the circumstances. Even if I can't remember what the circumstances are. For as glad as I am to have her taking care of me, I'm also quite certain that I am in for a stern lecture. _Just please, not yet_, I think.

"Don't tell me what I did to deserve this," I whimper once I've relieved myself.

"If you insist, I won't. But be assured you deserve every bit of it. Every bit of it and so much more." Elphie presses a kiss to my temple, then another to my eyebrow, then another to the side of my cheek.

"Elphie," I complain groggily, "we are on a _toilet_." Surely this peculiar display of affection can wait.

"I suppose you're right. I'd better get you back to bed before you collapse on me," she says, seemingly more amused by my predicament than disappointed in me. I groan as she pulls me up and we begin to make our way back. Halfway through our journey, I remember that we are in the Vinkus. The world spins and tilts sharply to the left, throwing me off balance. My legs give out beneath me and Elphie pulls me closer, holding me up.

"You shouldn't be straining yourself," I whisper, as the realization strikes me; "you're hurt."

"I'm fine," she answers.

"No, you're not fine…" She sits me down on the edge of the mattress. _She was not fine at all_, I think as the memories come flooding back to me. _She was limp in my arms and barely breathing; I sat in this exact spot, stroking her hair and pleading with her not to leave me._

"Oh sweet Oz," I cough out. How could I have forgotten? "Sweet, sweet merciful Oz…" I say again, using what little strength I have to wrap my arms around her and pull her body firmly down on top of mine. "Oh Elphaba!"

"Glinda?" she questions as I bury my face in the crook of her neck, but I can't stop murmuring her name. I just want to hold her and never let go.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," I say. "Elphaba, Elphie, love, love, I… Elphaba, I love… Oh Elphie! You, you, you."

No matter how many times I say it, it will never be enough to express my gratitude – my absolute unfettered joy – at the realization that she is alive. I can feel the warmth and weight of her body, solid and whole in my arms. I can breathe in her scent – clean and even somewhat sweet; the sickly sweatiness of before is gone.

"I Elphaba you too," she answers me with a tiny laugh, gently repositioning us so that she is beside rather than above me, despite my best attempts to keep her from moving. I snuggle as close against her as I possibly can, tucking my head beneath her chin. The world is going fuzzy, but I don't mind, because she is so warm and soft and safe and green and… Elphie.

* * *

This time the light is softer; a gentle golden glow pooling behind my eyelids. I'm lingering somewhere between sleep and waking, in a half-dream about Frottica. I am walking through the fields past the edge of town where the grass stretches farther than the eye can see. I was never allowed to play in the grass, lest I stain my newest dress. I imagine lying in it now, letting the greenness fully engulf me as the sun beats down upon my face.

I feel the distinct sensation of a finger gently twisting itself in the loose ringlets of my hair, twirling until it reaches my scalp and then carefully releasing the curl before repeating the process all over. I am fully aware of whom the fingers belong to without opening my eyes. In my imaginary Frottica, she is with me in the field. My head rests on her lap.

"Elphie," I say softly, transitioning back to the world of waking. Her hand stills itself in my hair, sliding down to stroke my cheek. "You're alive," I whisper. There is no response; just her fingers trailing down the curve of my face to my chin.

"Unless we've both died and this is the afterlife," I say, finally opening my eyes to look up into hers. "I don't care as long as we are together."

She grins wickedly. "Say there is an afterlife, hypothetically speaking, and we are in it. Do you think your bodily functions would have troubled you so? Is there such a strong link between bladder and soul?"

I immediately feel the hot flush of embarrassment in my cheeks. "I'm so sorry," I stammer, "that that was the first thing I said to you…"

"Better than me having to change the sheets," she says, trying to look serious. She might be able to hide the smile that plays on her lips, but it still comes through in her eyes. "Don't worry, my sweet. I understand the confusion that comes after casting such a powerful spell and I fully expected it. I've been through it myself." Her expression grows serious, then. "You are extremely lucky to have survived."

For a moment she does not speak, but her dark eyes burn into mine.

"I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you're trying for," I finally say. "Because the spell obviously worked. Did it work?"

"No," she says with a dramatic scowl. "You managed to do little more than knock yourself unconscious. And Fiyero should never be given a scalpel. I now have a scar that runs from my left nostril all the way to the toe of my right foot. It's really quite horrendous…" She begins to draw an imaginary trail with her finger.

"You're a terrible liar!" I chide her. "_You're_ really quite horrendous." I swat her hip, but for as weak as I am the gesture might as well be a caress.

"And you are just realizing my horrendousness?" she quips.

I sit halfway up, looking her over. She certainly looks well enough – better than I've seen her in quite a while, though she is still as much of a fashion disaster as ever. She's wearing a new set of men's pajamas; not red this time but a dull shade of beige which looks equally unappealing.

I reach curiously for the edge of the nightshirt with a hand that I now realize is wrapped in bandages, though I will worry about that later. I need to see for sure that she is okay. Elphie catches my fingers, holding them firmly between her own. For a moment, I expect her to shove them away. Instead, she uses her free hand to finish what I started, sliding up her shirt to reveal her stomach. It is smooth and green, unmarred by any scar or the slightest bruise… and definitely close enough to kiss.

I lean forward, pressing my lips against the soft skin. She shivers and inhales sharply, threading the fingers of one hand in my hair; a reaction so quick that I'm certain she hasn't had the chance to think better of it. I place my hand on her hip to steady myself and kiss her belly again. Her guard is still down; her fingers scratch against my scalp. Between the third and fourth kiss, though, she lets out a shriek and writhes away from me as if her very life depends on it.

"Sweet Oz, Elphie!" I exclaim as panic shoots through me. "Does it still hurt?" Did I somehow botch the spell? I knew it; I knew it couldn't have gone off quite so seamlessly!

She shakes her head, at first looking agitated, then embarrassed, and it dawns on me why she reacted as she did. In a witch renowned for her terribleness, ticklishness is not a particularly fashionable weakness. It is, however, an extremely endearing one. "Some things never change," I observe fondly, brushing my fingers over her side and causing her to squirm again.

"Such as your desire to torture me in any way possible," she groans, grabbing my fingers once again to still them. "Make me panic… make me worry… twist my heart into a thousand knots. I was so afraid for you."

"And I for you," I echo pathetically. For Oz sake, Elphie's guilt-tripping me for saving her life! And I was feeling playful and affectionate… This girl really knows how to ruin a mood.

But she shifts so that we're lying face-to-face and pulls me into a kiss.

I gasp in surprise but I quickly give in to the firm pressure of her lips. It is exactly what I need right now; the feeling of her hand cupping the back of my head; her tongue pressing urgently against my own. I want nothing more than to return her affection with equal passion and fervor. My heart does so without question, but my body feels so Ozdamned useless. I've already used up what little strength I had; I can barely lift a hand to rest against her arm, let alone put forth the effort for the sort of kiss a moment like this so obviously requires. She sucks my lower lip between her teeth, rolling it gently back and forth.

"My heart may have been knotted," she says, hot against my mouth as she finally pulls back from it, "but it is thanks to you that my heart still beats at all." She takes my good hand, pressing it to her chest just below her collarbone. "My brave, beautiful, stubborn Glinda…"

She kisses me again, taking away what little energy I have left, because I'm quite sure she is still kissing me when I lose consciousness.

* * *

"Elphie?" I ask upon waking again. "Elphie?" I reach out blindly, trying to find her, but I get tangled in the sheets. They obstruct my vision when I'm finally able to open my eyes. "Elphie!" I cry out, terrified that the other times I woke were nothing but dreams in and of themselves. I feel a hand against my shoulder, solid and steadying. "Elphie?" I ask again.

"No, Your Goodness," comes the answer. When I see Skutch's golden eyes staring down at me, I nearly jump. I've forgotten that any other people – well, beings – exist in Oz. The Cat has placed both his paws on my shoulder now and he rests his head atop them, purring contentedly. "Your mate has gone to deal with the doctor."

"You're the doctor," I observe, unsure of what he's talking about.

"The human one. Vadrin. Her Goodness Elphaba has refused to leave your side for days, but he couldn't stay in the fishwell any longer. All his infernal shouting and banging on the walls was beginning to drive Master Fiyero quite crazy. Not to mention, we were concerned he would escape…"

"What is Elphie doing with him?" I ask.

"A spell, I presume, to tamper his memories of this place. It will render him unconscious. He will wake in a few hours, confused and suggestible. I will tell him he had a little accident with chloroform and knocked himself out while attending to a patient, perhaps one of the staff here. He won't remember that there's no staff to speak of. Then I will escort him back to his surgery. It's sure to knock his ego down a few notches at the least."

The Bobcat smiles. "I'm fairly sure that he needs it, after some of the things that came out of him before you healed Her Goodness. I suppose I should not have assumed that he was for full Animal equality just because of his belief that we deserve lifesaving medical treatment. Then again, he is my professional colleague, not a close friend with whom I have discussed politics. But Oz, I am rambling. What I should be asking is how you've been feeling since your ordeal."

"I feel fine," I say. "Tired and weak but otherwise fine. It's nothing compared to what Elphie went through. Do you know what happened to my hand? I meant to ask her but…" I stop short of saying _she kissed me senseless before I could_.

"Something with the spell," he says. "She said there was a wound there before and the magic split it back open." I realize that he is referring to the cut from the glass I broke in my rampage on the night she left my engagement ball with Fiyero. It seems so long ago now. But it couldn't have been much more than a week. "I'm sure she could explain better than I," the Cat continues. "She didn't balk at having to suture it, though. It was harder to tell when she was mortally wounded, but that woman has some serious steel to her."

Indeed she does. I smile proudly.

"You have quite a bit of it yourself, you know," Skutch says. "You accomplished more with that spell than any surgeon could hope to with a lifetime of training, let alone a humble veterinarian such as myself. She was so worried for you. We all were. Master Fiyero… well, I had to give him the rest of the sleeping draught I'd originally intended for Her Goodness Elphaba in order to calm him."

"Oh dear," I say as it dawns on me what my former fiancé actually went through, first seeing Elphie almost die, then seeing me collapse… Despite our earlier arguments, I feel a great deal of sympathy for him. "He's all right now, I presume?"

"Yes, and you shall be seeing him soon. He's making breakfast as we speak. You must be famished; you've been out for days and you ate nothing before that… You poor thing." I didn't realize I was hungry until Skutch said it, but now that food has been mentioned, the thought of it is all-consuming. I swear I can smell whatever Fiyero's making all the way downstairs in the kitchen. I don't know that he can actually cook – hence the cookbook I found before – but I'd take burnt eggs and undercooked bacon in a heartbeat.

It is not long before Fiyero comes in with a tray. His hands begin to shake at the sight of me and he nearly drops our breakfast to the floor; he cannot meet my eye. "I suppose I shall go check on Her Goodness's progress," Skutch says, leaping gracefully down from the bed. How convenient. Fiyero is obviously frightened of me, and I have to be alone with him. He sets the tray down atop a dresser and takes a moment to steady himself as the Cat leaves the room.

I'm not sure what to say, except for, "Good morning."

"Good morning," Fiyero says, almost too formally as he grabs the tray. "I'm glad to see you well." He sets the food on the nightstand and pours me a glass of tomato juice. Normally, I'd recoil at the thick, pasty substance but I begin to chug it as Fiyero places a plate in my lap. "Potato pancakes with goat cheese," he says, "and some wild desert berries."

"When did you become such a chef?" I ask, between gulps of juice. He takes my nearly-empty glass, refilling it for me, then takes his own plate.

"There was never a reason to cook in the palace, nor an opportunity to at Shiz. But I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my mother when I was young. I suppose being back here after so many years away is bringing me back to my roots. Cheers," he lifts his own glass of tomato juice from the seat he's taken at the foot of the bed in toast. "To your health. How are you feeling this fine morning?"

I have started in on the pancakes, which are unexpectedly delicious. "I'm fine. Couldn't feel better, really. Except that I can't even get out of bed without help. I imagine that's going to get old soon. How do you feel?"

He is silent for a moment then he exhales deeply. "Like an ass," he admits. "I'm sorry I ever even suggested that you didn't deserve to be with her. You certainly do, far more than I ever deserved either of you."

"Fiyero, you mustn't be so harsh on yourself," I say.

"It's easier to think you're the better man… well, person, until you're truly tested. When Elphaba needed you, you were brave and noble. I was panicked and violent. I'm afraid that in my time with the Gale Force, I've learned nothing but… force."

"It was emotional for everyone and none of us knew what to do." I try to be reassuring. "My spell was a last-ditch effort, and it was a stroke of amazing luck that it actually worked."

"You would have died for her," Fiyero says. "Elphaba says you knew that the spell could have killed you. I think the word foolish was mentioned a few times, but I am inclined to disagree. You are amazing."

"I'm sure you would have done the same for her," I say, and I wholeheartedly believe it.

"I still would," he says, "for either of you." With that, he finally has the courage to look into my eyes. He gives me a sad smile that nearly breaks my heart as he gathers up our empty dishes. "I'm happy for you. I really am," he says.

* * *

"I know it was totally necessary in Vadrin's case, but I still can't help feeling a bit guilty about removing someone's memories. What are we, but the sum of our memories?" Elphie asks me as we lay in bed. Her head rests on my stomach as the fingers of my good hand play with her hair. It's a question I cannot answer. But I don't know that an answer is what she's looking for.

I admire the profile of her face as she stares up at the ceiling; her thick eyelashes, the graceful slope and point of her nose. I can no longer resist the nose and I move my hand from her hair to touch it. She surprises me by lifting her head to playfully catch the tip of my finger between her teeth.

"Elphie," I sigh in response to the gesture, moved by a sudden desire to ravage her. It's a pointless urge; I'm sure what little energy I have would be expended just getting her out of those ugly pajamas. The end result: she'd be naked, and I would be fast asleep.

"That is what frightens me most about death," she says, snapping me from my thoughts. "Forgetting. Even after my close call I'm no more inclined to believe in a life beyond this one. I didn't see the spirit of my dearly departed mother or any tunnel of light that would lead me to the throne of the Unnamed God. The only thing I was aware of was you, touching and speaking to me, even when I couldn't understand the words. I didn't want to leave you. I didn't want to forget you. You are the only thing about this sad world that is worth remembering."

I fold my palm protectively around her cheek. I want to tell her that maybe she didn't see anything because she was never meant to die, but I know her well enough not to speak these thoughts. I would not be reassuring her so much as opening the door to a long, tedious discussion on fate and how it isn't the slightest bit fair that anyone would be meant to live when others aren't. So instead, I trail my fingers down the side of her face.

"I can't believe I did it…" I whisper softly.

"Did what?" she asks, nuzzling against my palm.

"Healed you," I say. "Magic has always evaded me. I can't even claim to know why I wanted to learn it anymore. It was the one thing I could never buy, could never get by batting my eyelashes…"

"Perhaps that's exactly why you wanted to learn it."

"But even now, it's not as if it came to me through great effort or discipline. It was like standing in a field during a thunderstorm with my arms stretched toward the sky. This time the lightning finally struck… I felt it surge through me but I wasn't commanding it. I was completely at its mercy."

"That's an apt metaphor, my sweet. You finally allowed yourself release from rational thought. It takes a certain amount of irrationality to let the lightning hit you at all, because it is a dangerous force. I was always good at the letting go. Channeling what you've unleashed once you've tapped into the power is the true challenge. You got enough of a grip on it that it didn't destroy you. Tell me, where did you place your hands when you cast the spell?"

"I put one here." I lay my bandaged hand on her stomach. "And the other here." I rest the other on her heart.

"This," she says, folding her hands over mine on her chest, "is probably what saved you. Just as the Grimmerie has a will of its own, magic has an intuition. To heal my body was one thing, but my heart would have been beyond repair if you had lost your life in the process."

"So it was you, then? You saved me?"

"I had no capacity for magic at that moment, my sweet. No, it was all you and the magic itself. You can be credited with the intuition of knowing exactly where to place your hands."

"I hope that serves me well in other ventures…" I whisper.

"Glinda," she coughs, catching my meaning. "You know, we are still young. Young enough to change the course of our lives. We could find a cottage in the middle of nowhere, live off the land and disappear into obscurity. We could forget about Oz and all its horrors… and just love each other."

"You say that but you'll never mean it," I say, running my thumb over her dark eyebrow. "Even now you know that you don't mean it. And it's a good thing, because if you did, you wouldn't be the Elphaba that I fell in love with. I know you're tired of running, tired of fighting… I know it seems fruitless sometimes. But we can change the course of this fight. I already have some ideas… And I am going to study magic. Really study it this time. You will be able to rely on me…"

"My sweet," she says, gently clasping my hand in both of hers, "shhhh." She brings it to her lips, kissing my fingers. "Magic and revolution can wait, at the very least until you are well again. For now and for the rest of our lives, you are my first priority."

"And you are mine, which is precisely why you are not going to get lazy on me and give up your cause," I tease.

* * *

"My sweeeeet, wake uuuup," Elphie sing-songs in my ear, fingers tickling under my chin. I fell asleep shortly after dinner and would be quite content to continue sleeping. I groan, trying to roll away from her. "Hmm, what a pity. I drew a bath for you. I suppose I shall go let all that warm bubbly water back down the drain."

"Bath?" I ask, instantly perking up, but she has already turned toward the door. "Bath, Elphie?"

Amusement plays in her dark eyes as she turns back to look at me. "It is how we commonly refer to a quantity of water or liquid for the washing or immersion of something. Or someone. Judging by the size of the tub at the palace I assumed it was a concept you were well acquainted with."

She makes her way back over, leaning down to kiss me.

"No kisses for you, being all snide!" I reprimand, though my lips still rise to meet hers. "I know what a bath is. I was just surprised." She slides a hand behind my back and helps me up. I wrap my arms around her neck and bury my face in her shoulder.

I am still shaky on my feet as we make our way across the room, but walking is already getting easier. This hasn't escaped Elphie's notice. "My, but you are recovering quickly!" she says.

Upon entering the bathroom, I give a small squeal of delight. The tub is full of bubbles as promised; the foam towers high above the porcelain edges.

"Here, lift your arms," Elphie says.

She slides the hem of my nightdress up over my head. It's been laundered since we arrived in the Vinkus, presumably by her. It's the only item of clothing left from my old life. If only I could have packed in advance like I wanted, I certainly would have brought some more appropriate clothes for Elphie. She is still milling about in those pajamas… I think I should truly deny her kisses until she changes into something more appealing.

No sooner has the thought crossed my mind than she slips the offending shirt up over her head, not even bothering to unbutton it. She lets the drawstring pants fall to the tile floor where they bunch around her green ankles and she steps out of them, kicking them aside. In typical Elphie fashion, she is conspicuously lacking in undergarments. I bite my lip, trying to force back a smile. She seems to mistake my expression for confusion.

"Someone needs to be in there with you in case you nod off into the water, my narcoleptic love," she explains.

I nod sagely, as if I actually know what narcoleptic means, then I nervously wring my hands, wondering if I've just agreed to a derogatory jest. I cease to care when Elphie's arms encircle my waist, helping to balance me so that I can climb into the deep tub. The only thoughts that register are: we are naked, and she is touching me.

The water is perfect – as warm as it can get without being too hot, though I am instantly self-conscious of the unflattering shade of pink that it will surely turn my skin. It's one of the few downsides to being so pale. But there's nothing to be done for it now as Elphie slides in behind me, easing both our bodies slowly into the bubbles. I sit between her legs, head leaned back against her shoulder. Her arms remain wrapped around me, hands resting on my ribs. The very tops of her kneecaps poke out from the cover of foam. I give a blissful sigh, closing my eyes and allowing myself to relax.

Elphie pokes my side. "No sleeping," she chides.

"I wasn't going to sleep," I protest.

"I was perusing the bookshelves downstairs," she says after a thoughtful moment. "You and Fiyero's mother have similar tastes. She has her very own weathered copy of _Warrior of Vinkus_." I groan at the reminder of my once-favorite book. "Perhaps I can help ease the boredom of your recovery by reading it aloud to you over the next few days," she suggests. I can't see her face, but I can hear the smirk that is playing upon her lips.

"In that monotone voice of yours? I'd rather not. Besides, my tastes in literature have been changed for the better," I say, perhaps a bit too haughtily.

"Really?" she asks, intrigued. "Do tell me."

"I must admit, I have not lost my passion for romances. I built up quite the collection back at the palace," I say.

"How is that a change for the better? Or even a change at all?" Elphie's voice is laced, almost, with disappointment.

"They didn't have any men in them," I say. Caught off guard by the answer, she lets out a sharp cackle.

"Fiyero's mother," she coughs, "doesn't seem to favor that sort of romance. I could change the pronouns in _Warrior_, perhaps. Give your protagonist a loincloth-clad tribeswoman to lust after, rather than a man. I must admit, I was quite looking forward to reading to you…"

"Hmm," I ponder aloud. "The name Throg could be changed easily enough to Thropp. And Galena, to Glinda, of course."

"My sweet, you better put that idea out of your head," she warns. "I shall not dress myself in a loincloth, even imaginarily. And we will have no talk of your dainty fingers firmly clasping my manly dagger. Even though there are rumors that I have one…" I've heard those rumors too, but I know better. Had Elphie such anatomy, it would currently be pressing into my lower back, where instead there is nothing but a soft bed of hair. I didn't notice it before, but now I am keenly aware of the proximity of her most delicate parts to my own skin.

"Be creative, Elphie. There are other things my dainty fingers can do." I give her a small sampling, tracing them along the top of a slender green knee. A small shudder runs through her body. "Ooh, sensitive," I tease.

"Glinda," she says, tone lingering somewhere between a question and a warning, but I ignore her, trailing my nails to the underside of her knee with the lightest of strokes and sliding it slowly down the back of her thigh. She shivers as her leg gives a series of twitches. Before I can tease her any further, her hands slide up to my breasts in a gesture which is both earnest and completely unguarded. For a moment, she kneads gently, rolling them against her palms. Then, she seems to realize what she's doing and withdraws her hands as if she's touched a hot stove. I give an aggrieved moan, but she pays it no heed as she launches into an apology.

"I'm sorry, my sweet. You haven't even been conscious a day. You're still so weak… I shouldn't be taking liberties." As if I am not the one who started this.

"I'm weak, not indisposed," I say as sweetly as I can muster. "Elphie…" I find her hands in the water and gently move them back to where I want them. "We are both alive. We are together. That should be cause enough for… a bit of celebration."

"You have an odd concept of celebration," she says, trying to be flip, though I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. I could counter that her definition of celebration is far odder, but I'm not sure I've ever seen her celebrate anything. Instead of engaging her in that conversation, which will take us further away from this moment, I appeal to her as best I can.

"Please don't deny me," I say meekly, turning the side of my head to nuzzle her shoulder.

She exhales slowly. After a brief hesitation, her hands make careful, tentative strokes, circling around the perimeters of my breasts, underneath and above them, as if committing the shape to memory. She moves slowly, acclimating herself to my body, silently seeking the permission that I would have enthusiastically given years ago.

"Please Elphie. Please," I repeat breathily, weak now not from the strain of the healing spell but with my all-encompassing need for her. My entire body quivers as with each pass her fingers draw closer to the center of my breasts, finally trailing around the very edges of my tightened nipples. She plants a kiss beneath my ear and another at the corner of my jaw where it meets my throat. Finally, she runs her thumbs over the hardened peaks, barely touching. I breathe out sharply, arching my back.

She gives a soft sigh in tandem with my own as she catches my nipples between the thumbs and forefingers of both her hands, massaging them with increasing pressure then reverting back to feather-light strokes. Her initial nervousness has given way to an innate sense of how to touch me. And I want to touch her in return. I _need_ to touch her; I need to run my hands all over that lovely, slender body and grab fistfuls of that thick, dark hair.

"Just a second, Elphie… I'm getting a cramp in my side. I need to readjust…" I say as I turn around in her arms. But she catches my wrists firmly in her hands before my fingers can get anywhere near their pert green targets. I try to wriggle free of her grasp, but I am too weak.

"No, my sweet," she says, leaning close to brush the side of her face against my own. Her breath is warm against my ear, even in the heat that rises from the water. Or is the heat rising from our bodies? I'm not sure.

"Elphie," I protest, wanting to wrap every one of my limbs around her. Her hold on me remains firm.

"I do not wish for you to exert yourself while you are still recovering. I would much rather you rest and let me take care of your needs." I can't keep my expression from falling at her words. No matter how reasonable her excuse, she doesn't want me to touch her. Not even now, after all we've been through. It hurts.

"Such a pretty little thing you are," she says, releasing one of my wrists to trail her thumb down my cheek. I shut my eyes, turning my face away from her touch. Hundreds of people have called me pretty, though Elphie has never been one to compliment my appearance so directly – she's always praised me for cleverness and strength of character. The compliment seems cheap now, disappointing, and does little to comfort me as I withdraw further inside myself. Her fingers move to my hair, damp and curly with steam.

"There was a time when I thought your beauty was a horribly unfair advantage; a lucky roll of the genetic dice and little more. But now I realize that it is the perfect reflection of a matching interior," she whispers gently. "Look at me, Glinda. Look at me, and see how much I want you."

I open my eyes to look into hers. There is still a glint of fear in them; of uncertainty. But they travel slowly over my face then downward over the skin of my neck, my shoulders, and finally to my breasts which are now above the water. Her gaze lingers upon them in a way that makes me feel wholly exposed. There is suddenly something dark to her expression; something primal. Her eyes narrow as she draws her bottom lip between her teeth then releases it and the corners of her mouth quirk into a lopsided smile.

Her voice is low and heavy, but unwaveringly confident as she says, "I'll give you what you want but you have to take it on my terms. Lie still and let me attend to you, Glinda." The firmness of her tone catches me completely off guard. She lets go of my other wrist and my arms hang slack at my sides. She grabs my shoulders and gently turns me back around to our previous position. I no longer resist her attentions.

When I am well, we will make love properly. I will lavish every inch of her with kisses. But for now, I am willing to submit to her.

It is something new and altogether different; lying back against her with my eyes half-closed and letting her hands roam across my body. I was always in control with Fiyero; I was always on top yet I was always playing a role which was more about his pleasure than my own. It was about power, of course – power to have his eyes fixed on my body; power to leave him begging for my touch. Sometimes my body responded accordingly to his, but my mind and heart were always detached from those empty physical sensations.

Now I am feeling Elphie's touch with my entire being, savoring the way in which she touches me. There is a tenderness to it; a reverence and also a surprising hunger. Her hands slide down my sides to my hips, then back up to my breasts by way of my stomach. Her short nails scrape trails across my skin, no doubt making it even pinker, as her breaths become more ragged and hot against the back of my neck. It is all too apparent how much she has desired to touch me in this way.

Her left hand continues to work at my nipple as her right hand travels back to my hip, kneading in the nook beneath the bone then moving lower to my thigh. She is pressing against it, parting my legs with a confidence I would have never expected of her. In response and invitation, I lift my feet out of the water, hooking my ankles around the edges of the tub. My body slides lower against Elphie's, the water now level with my chin.

"That is an… interesting position," she observes, fingertips grazing my inner thigh. I growl in response, looping my arms around her legs beneath the water, further anchoring myself against her. She finally stops tormenting me as her palm fits over the space between my legs.

"My adoration for you," she says softly beside my ear, "is unlimited." With those words, two fingers finally slide against my center, directly over the tiny bud that aches for their touch. Her fingers are careful; hesitant and absurdly gentle, just as her lips were against mine the first time we ever kissed. As easy as it would be to guide her hand, I will let her find her own way. Her inexperience does nothing to downplay the fact that it is _her_ touching me. She who I have wanted so badly, for so long, who I love so incredibly much… Just knowing that this is real and finally happening is nearly enough to send me over the edge, despite her uncertain strokes.

She becomes more confident when it is apparent to her that she's not hurting me; not in any way. Her fingers move faster, in tiny little circles, as she increases pressure then decreases it again. I cling tighter to her legs as I arch my hips nearly out of the water. Her free hand pushes me right back down again.

"You'll strain yourself," she says, voice firm but not unkind as she steps up her efforts to meet my rising need. When I feel every muscle from my waist down begin to clench, I simultaneously think it's far too soon and not soon enough. She can feel it too, or perhaps she can see my feet turning in at the edges of the tub, toes curling. In any case, she lets up just slightly, choosing to make the last moments as slow and tantalizing as possible.

"Elphie," I whisper. Her fingers launch into rapid movement; a motion so fast it creates a vibrating sensation I can barely stand. _Sweet Oz, where did she learn to do that?_ She leans her forehead against my shoulder, one arm wrapping tight around my waist, as my body explodes in her arms.

"Elphaaa-aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhohhhh, oh, oh, ohh," I exhale as I shiver and shudder and go slack against her. I try to say her name again, but this time it only comes out as "Elph."

"Elph. Elph. Eph." I am rendered incoherent as she wraps both arms around me, head still nuzzled against my shoulder.

"Elphie," I finally manage say, "I'm not broken anymore."

"I always told you that you weren't," she says, voice still heavy with desire. I wish she would allow me to relieve her of it, but I know that right now, she won't. And my sudden exhaustion is perhaps even stronger than her desire. My feet slip from the edges of the tub back into the water with a clumsy splash, but I barely notice. It seems to snap her out of her haze.

Her hands slide under my arms. "Come on, my sweet. Sit up so I can get out and help you to bed."


	17. Different Magic

_**AN: **Once again, I'm sorry for keeping you all waiting. I can't even begin to describe how much has happened in my life since I posted the last chapter – thankfully it's almost all good. And on that note, I need to make a shout out to my amazing girlfriend Amy. Thank you, my sweet, for your support and encouragement through all of the insanity. Huge thank you as well to my beta, Ridiculous Mavis, for her lightning-fast speed and for spotting all my gratuitous overuses of words and expressions._

_Warning for sexual content, again, in this chapter. Our fandom does not seem to be yet affected by the purging of "M" rated stories that is going on, but I assure you that if it does, you will still be able to find me on tumblr (under the username Throppsicle) and I will repost this story there. You can expect one more chapter from me, theoretically before the summer is over, then this story is finally complete._

**Chapter 17: Different Magic**

I hold my breath as my bare feet inch slowly across the wooden floor of the darkened room. Almost there… almost...

"And just where do you think you are going?" Elphie asks me. I obviously haven't been quiet enough.

"I'm coming back, actually," I say sheepishly. "I needed to use the toilet."

"All by yourself?" she inquires. "Just like last night and the night before?"

I chew on my lower lip. It was starting to seem like Elphie had become a heavier sleeper since our days at Shiz. Apparently, I was wrong about that. I've become a lighter sleeper as of late; my body feels so saturated in sleep I don't think I can bear another moment of it.

"I needed to try it for myself. To see if I could make it," I answer honestly. The first time I nearly collapsed but walking is getting easier with each passing day. I feel strangely guilty for hiding my small nighttime adventures from my protective love. However, when she switches on the bedside lamp her expression tells me that she's anything but disappointed in me.

She reaches out and I allow myself to fall the last few inches into her welcoming arms. "Hello," she says, pulling me close and pressing her nose against my cheek. I sit up, straddling her lap. "You look as if you've energy to spare, even after that epic journey across the bedroom," she observes.

"I do." I smile, thinking of the ways I'd most like to expend that energy as I look down at her.

"There's no way you can be recovering so fast, my sweet. It defies all reason and logic. It's been what, a week since you cast the spell? The last time I healed someone, I don't think I was even eating solid food by this point let alone moving around unassisted."

"And who took care of you while you… narcolepticized?" I ask her.

"An Owl," she answers.

"Well, that's the reason why. No matter how well-meaning the Owl, they are lacking in hands, and therefore unable to employ some of your… less conventional methods of encouraging recovery," I tease.

"You are the one who started _that_ business," she insists. She smirks and runs her fingers lightly down my side. "My sweet, are you in need of another… treatment?"

I slide off of her lap, lying down beside her. "I told you, I must politely decline until you are willing to let me return the favor." I nuzzle into her shoulder.

"You may do so when you are well…" she begins.

"Where do you draw the line," I ask, "between well and not? I just walked to the bathroom and back on my own. That has to count for something."

"Let's think about it when you can get around on your own all day. In your current state you'd still pass out before your efforts could come to fruition," she observes. I sigh. Her excuses are wearing thin.

"Let me see your hand," she commands, firmly changing the subject. I surrender my palm to her and she peels off my bandage to examine the sutures. I have to turn my head; it makes me queasy to look at them. They're wiry little black things that stick out of my skin at odd angles like the legs of spiders. And the cut they hold closed runs the entire length of my palm. The old injury was nearly healed before I cast the spell; even if it wouldn't have scarred before, it's going to scar now.

But I look at Elphie, who examines it with the utmost care, cocking her head to look for the slightest bit of redness or swelling in the dim light and I am suddenly glad that I am the one to bear a scar from this ordeal. I'm proud to bear it. It is a testament to my love; proof of the person I have become.

"I'm a little worried," she confesses, "about you doing magic again." It is a subject that she has previously avoided broaching at all.

"Why? Certainly, I can work on smaller spells that are far less dangerous…"

"This normally doesn't happen," she tells me, turning over her hands to show me her smooth green palms. "Due to your emotional state at the time of casting, you released too much energy too quickly. You already had a weak point in your hand, so the magic took advantage of that and broke right through. I'm just afraid that it may continue to be a weak point in the future."

"Than I shall use my other hand," I say and waggle my eyebrows at her.

"Glinda!" she chides me. I fake a pout. "I think it's time for these stitches to come out," she states and gets out of bed, presumably searching for something to cut them with.

"Is it going to hurt?" I ask nervously. She cackles in response.

"My sweet; my brave, beautiful girl who laughs in the face of death... No, it will not hurt. I promise."

* * *

We take our breakfast in the dining room. Getting there is an arduous process, but I refuse any assistance out of the desire to prove my wellness. We can hear Fiyero humming a song in the kitchen as he finishes preparing our meal. Skutch sits at the table, washing his paws with his tongue. I'm not sure if the rules of etiquette are different for Animals, but it still strikes me as highly improper.

"Your Goodnesses!" he exclaims at the sight of the two of us, quickly dropping his paw back to the table. He sits up a bit straighter in his seat. "I am taking my leave of Kiamo Ko today."

I nearly ask him why before realizing the absurdity of the question. He has a medical practice to return to and he has already stayed here longer than necessary out of concern for Elphie and I.

"With that in mind," he says, "I want Your Goodnesses to know that I am always at your service if there is ever anything I can do to help you in your campaign against the Wizard. You know where to find me."

"You've already helped us plenty by keeping us alive," Elphie says, her voice grateful but matter-of-fact. "No further involvement is necessary." She crosses her arms on the table in front of her.

"You can't keep on doing this on your own, you know," Fiyero says, carrying a tray into the room. "You're going to burn out." Elphie pulls a face in his direction – I am not sure if it is at his statement or the cooked pheasant on one of the plates he carries. Cats are carnivores by nature and the bird is obviously in honor of Skutch. Fiyero has also prepared an assortment of pastries in a nod to Elphie's vegetarianism.

"There is just no need for good people to take the same risks I take…" she starts to say. I prod her upper arm, hard. "Ouch, Glinda!"

"Together, we thrive. Divided, we don't stand a chance," Fiyero says in ignorance of Elphie's increasingly sour expression.

"We really need to start discussing your strategy," I agree, "because it is in need of a serious makeover."

"Treason and fashion are not quite the same subject…" Elphie says, flustered, as she shifts in her seat.

"Stop thinking of it as treason. Stop falling so easily into the damned role that Morrible has put you in!" I slam my fists on the table. I have everyone's full attention and I freeze in embarrassment.

"Go on, Your Goodness," Skutch says. I look at Elphie. She concedes to me with a small, subtle nod.

"Face it, my love, your fatalistic assumption that everyone will always see you as wicked is not helping your cause. People aren't going to listen to you if you don't even _try_ to be likable…"

"And how do you presume to make me likable _now_? Put some high-heeled shoes on me? Toss toss?" Elphie flips her hair. "Will that undo all the bad publicity?" There is a slight sarcasm to her question, but it's not nearly as cutting as it could be. I know that she is really listening to me.

"There is a small issue of… fashion, yes," I say, eyeing the pajamas that she thought were acceptable to wear even to breakfast. "But to be likable, one also has to align oneself with likable people." I smile.

"Glinda has a point," Fiyero says. "And aside from the Wizard himself, she probably has more sway over public opinion than anyone in Oz." Elphie quickly shakes her head in effort to shoot down the idea.

"I told you I'm committed to this, Elphie. I intend to help your cause by going public in support of you; by telling the people of Oz the truth!"

"You and I both know that the Wizard and Morrible will claim that I've magic-spelled you into compliance for my own devious purposes," she sighs in exasperation.

"Yes, but Glinda will magic-spell everyone out of that notion just by virtue of her effervescent personality," Fiyero counters and I have to try to resist the blush rising in my cheeks. I knew there was something I used to see in him.

"That and the Palace underestimates me," I say. "Even now, I am sure Morrible doubts that I have the strength to go against popular opinion. I just need to figure out where I can find a willing audience."

"You could use the terrace here, just like you did at the Emerald Palace," Fiyero suggests.

"No, Fiyero. You can't expect the people to travel here and you don't want Their Goodnesses to have to find a new hideout. Glinda, you need to go to the people. I suggest somewhere with a denser population, like Red Windmill," Skutch says.

"Is there any real population density _anywhere_ in the Vinkus?" Elphie asks skeptically.

"We're dense enough," Fiyero says. I shoot a warning glance in Elphie's direction in hopes of curbing her sharp tongue before it can fire back with the response I know is right on the tip of it.

"We'll start in Red Windmill," I say, "but we certainly won't stop there. Remember when I was first appointed to my position in the Emerald City and we took a tour of Oz? We will tour Oz again. We can't put out public announcements as to where we will appear, but we can target large gatherings; festivals and fairs and town halls. We'll use magic to get in, share our message and get out before the Gale Force can catch wind of our presence."

"I still have a few contacts in the force," Fiyero says with a proud grin. "I can find out if military presence is expected at any events before we chance it."

I am already starting to think of the speech I am going to write, but my stomach gives a loud grumble, demanding that I focus my attentions elsewhere. Elphie notices as my eyes wander to the pastries and without a word, she reaches out to pluck one from the tray for me.

* * *

I spend the rest of the day in bed but my single walk to the dining room and back is enough to assure that I sleep soundly at night. So soundly, in fact, that I don't wake up to go wandering.

When do I wake the next morning, I am snuggled securely against Elphie's shoulder. She is lying flat on her back. I can tell from the lightness of her hand on my arm and the slight tension of her body beneath me that she's already awake. She doesn't know that I am conscious and she's trying to keep perfectly still to avoid disrupting my sleep. I nestle my face deeper into her shoulder to hide the smirk that forms on my lips. I can have some fun with this.

In a clumsy sleeplike motion, I lift the hand that is tucked under my chin and slide it down to her stomach. I brush my forearm directly over her breast in the process. Her breath hitches for just a moment before going back to its normal rhythm. I let her relax for a minute before I spontaneously twitch my fingers against her side in a movement which I am sure tickles her. Once again, her muscles tense beneath me as she tries to contain the urge to writhe. Her fingers rub slowly up and down my arm in an effort to soothe me into stillness. And so, I stop twitching in favor of drawing tiny circles with my fingernails against the fabric of her pajamas. I keep on like I am dreaming, unaware of my actions, as circles become coils and spirals and zigzags on her belly. Her breathing grows heavier.

I give a low moan in my throat as someone might do in a dream, a little "oh" that's barely more than a whisper, and lift my face just the tiniest bit so that I'm certain she can feel my breath on her neck. Then I still the circling of my hand. Her heartbeat has quickened against my ear. I can almost feel the tension buzzing in her body beneath me. I give her a few minutes to miss my touch. Then I start moving my hand again, this time tracing up over her ribs, kneading like a kitten until my fingers are directly beneath her right breast. I follow the outer curve of it, tracing my fingers across the edge of the small swell to the plane of her chest above. I brush against her collarbone before I start trailing my fingers down again, slowly.

"Glinda, sweet," she whispers nervously, giving me a light shake. "Glinda, are you awake?"

"Mmrmphf, Elphie," I say, feigning innocence. I slide my fingers back up to her collarbone then start dragging them down again, more heavily this time.

"Glinda? Glinda?" Her voice is pitiful. I stop, feeling guilty that my actions have unnerved her so.

"Elphie," I answer her simply.

"You are awake," she says pointedly.

I'm tempted to maintain that my actions were entirely unconscious. But I cannot lie to her. I place my hand firmly upon her breast, giving her an affectionate smile.

"Glinda," she protests. I'm frustrated by her reticence; so much so that I could scream. She was just clearly enjoying my attentions, but now she's trying to refuse them as usual.

"I got around by myself all day yesterday, just like you asked," I complain.

"That doesn't count when you only left the bedroom once," she snaps back, eyebrows knotted in a scowl.

Usually, I can read her well enough to know when I should push her and when I need to let her find her own way. But with this, I can't. I'm afraid that if I push, I will breach some essential boundary. I know some of the scars she carries, but there could be others I'm not aware of. She hasn't told me everything about the past four years.

"Elphie," I implore, moving my hand from her breast to rest on her shoulder and looking into her eyes, "please tell me why you are so frightened of this. Did someone… hurt you?"

"No, my sweet, no," she says, lips brushing over my cheek. "Not like that. No man or woman has touched me more intimately than you have, with or without my consent. I want you to touch me," she says, but she hesitates. "I want it, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do it. I can accept that perhaps you love me; Oz knows I love you more than anything. But I can't quite accept that you… desire me quite like I desire you."

"That is silly talk," I say, resting my forehead against hers. "Practically since we first met, you are all that I have longed for."

"I'm afraid that you may confuse genuine longing with a desire to please," she says. "I am afraid that this is you trying your best to be Glinda the Good for me. But we're not talking about a cuddle or some other form of perfectly benign touch. There are things… that that you don't have to do for me ever, darling. I am perfectly content to continue to do them for you."

"And do you think I'm content with that, Elphaba?" I ask, eyes burning into hers.

"I don't know," she says, eyes wide and fearful.

"Elphie…" I take a deep breath. "There was a time when I felt sorry for you, or at least I thought I did. I thought it was oh-so-good of me to fearlessly give you my affection. But the reality of it was that I loved touching you so much. I just wanted more and more. I felt ashamed of it – I never touched any of my other friends like that. Had I even wanted to, there's no way they would have permitted it."

"Did you want to?" Elphie asks.

"Oz, no. Shenshen was never particularly attractive; she just hid it by dressing well. Pfannee was too much of an airhead, and with that horrendible makeup… Oz, I cringe just to think about it."

"Whereas I wore horrendible clothes." Elphie raises a brow.

"That is the measure of love. Or at least, that is what we shall chalk it up to."

"Exactly, just as your willingness to make love to me is the measure of love; something to be endured for my sake," she says, folding her arms over her chest.

"Not endured, Elphie! Relished! So many nights I laid in bed beside you that I couldn't even snuggle up against you for fear that it would be too arousing. I tried to imagine what you did when you were alone with yourself… The look on your face, the sounds you made…"

"I thought of you," she whispers, "always."

For a moment we are both silent. And then she initiates a kiss. It is slow and searing. She runs her tongue over my lips then uses it to part them. Her hand not only cups but presses into the back of my neck. Apparently, I've hit on something as of yet untapped in her. She breaks the kiss to lower her lips to my throat.

"Elphie," I feel the need to clarify, "if you're worried about it… I have already surmised that you are quite green everywhere. In fact, I find the thought of it rather exciting…"

She freezes, eyes wide once again; body tense, cheeks darkening in the dim morning light. Just as soon as it seemed as if I was steering things in the right direction, I've gone and made them wrong again.

"Glinda," Elphie says with trepidation, "I need to use the bathroom." With that she springs to her feet and scuttles away, leaving me slack-jawed and stupefied. Fiyero complained that I was too emotional; well, he should thank Oz for his luck that he never had to deal with this. I ball my fists, feeling ready to cry out of sheer frustration.

Yet I can't help but feel that my frustration is selfish. Elphie might be weeping now – or, more like her, simply clutching the edge of the marble counter and trembling – while I am stewing here in bed instead of going to comfort her. I feel like I've said what needed to be said, but I will gladly say it again and again until she believes me. Minus, of course, the mentions of her nether regions. I stand, shaky on my feet, and inch my way to the bathroom door, pressing my ear against it. For a few moments, there is no sound. Not the slightest rustle of clothing or drip from a faucet. But then there is her voice – soft, not tearful but somehow musical. Is she… _singing_?

Quickly, I silence all my thoughts, trying to pay full attention to the sounds coming from behind the door. Her voice glosses melodiously over words I do not understand. It sounds like she's chanting… as if she's casting a spell. What in Oz?

Worry floods my mind. This better not be some last-ditch attempt at degreenification or any attempt to change herself. I'm nearly ready to burst in when she falls silent. I quickly step back from the door, but I can't get back to the bed quick enough before it creaks open and she peeks out shyly through the crack. I sigh with relief upon the observation that her skin is still the very same shade of emerald. Then she steps forward and I gasp.

Gone are the baggy beige pajamas that did nothing to flatter her figure. They've been replaced with a black satin robe that I'm certain never existed before in the wardrobe of this room. It has long bell sleeves with delicate floral embroidery at the cuff – pink flowers, to my surprise. The robe is short in length, the hem grazing just over the top few inches of her shapely thighs. It is held together by a thick sash at the waist. The "v" created by the opposite edges of the garment dips down between her breasts. It looks like it was made just for her. And the finishing touch – there is a flower clip pinned in her hair, an exact replica of the one that I gave her on the night of the party at the Ozdust.

I am fairly sure my jaw is hanging open.

"I'm sorry… does this look ridiculous on me?" she asks nervously.

"Why, no…" My breath catches in my throat. "Miss Elphaba, you're beautiful." I blink. "You made this? With magic?"

"I didn't make it," she says modestly, casting her eyes to the floor. "I transformed those pajamas. I had to try... for you… if this… is to happen… I wanted to make some kind of effort." She fidgets nervously with her collar. "Surely, you deserve it. And so much more."

She needn't say anything else. I feel like I am going to explode in sheer gratitude at the gesture; her… offering of herself. I turn around, drawing the lock of the door tight behind me. "_You_, my love, deserve the world," I tell her. "Now, let's have a look, shall we?"

With a timid smile she turns around slowly, letting me take in the whole garment.

"It looks amazing on you," I observe, "now come over here and let me take it off you."

I perch myself neatly on the edge of the bed and she comes to embrace me. Playfully, I wrap my legs around her waist, pulling her down on top of me. My fingers tangle in her silky hair as I press a kiss to her shoulder. "Beautiful," I sigh before capturing her bottom lip between my own, pulling it gently between my teeth.

My hands slide over her shoulder blades and down her back across the soft fabric of her robe. She tilts her head upward, drawing my lips between hers. After a moment I deepen our kiss, seeking out her tongue. I feel her hands on my hips, moving to cup my backside. In response to her sudden confidence, I slide a hand between our bodies to her chest in order to seek a silk-clad nipple.

I find it easily, firm beneath the fabric. I rest my hand gently above it, allowing Elphie to get used to the idea before I begin to move my fingers in the lightest of circles against the tender peak. Her lips slide away from mine and she rests her chin on my shoulder. I cannot gauge her mood. My other hand rests gently in the middle of her back, fingers tracing her spine to give her comfort. "It's okay," I say softly. "I'll stop if you need me to." She leans her cheek against mine.

"Don't stop," she whispers as I knead her breast. "Please… Glinda…" There is a soft, breathy quality to her voice that I have never heard before. It makes my heart swell in my chest and all my joints go wobbly. There is nothing I can deny this beautiful girl. I want nothing more than to make her feel as beautiful as she is.

After a few moments I move from loose strokes and light kneading over her breasts to a more focused effort on her left nipple, rolling it between my fingers and teasing it relentlessly through the fabric. She gasps against my ear. I slide my hands to her shoulders, gently pushing up.

"Lay down on your back," I instruct her. She looks slightly apprehensive about my command, but she does as she is told. I roll over so that I am on top of her and then sit up, straddling her hips. She rests a hand on my knee and begins to slide it up my thigh, past the hem of my nightdress. I catch the hand, carefully returning it to the bed beside her. "This time, my pretty, it's all about you," I tell her firmly.

She looks striking with her hair strewn against the sheets and the dim light reflected in her dark eyes. But her lower lip trembles as she looks up at me. "I want to see you," she pleads.

I cannot deny her. I pull my nightdress up over my head, casting it aside. My figure has yet to recover from the toll wrought by days of unconsciousness and days of not eating beforehand. I am far too pale and emaciated for my liking. Even so, Elphie gives a little whimper at the sight of me naked above her and I am not the slightest bit ashamed of her eyes upon me. There is nothing in them but the fondest adoration.

I lower myself slowly to my elbows, letting my breasts slide against hers through the thin layer of fabric left between us. Simultaneously, I nose under her chin, making her turn it up so that I can kiss beneath it. Instead of just kissing, I make a warm, wet trail with my tongue from her collarbone all the way up her neck. I feel her shiver beneath me. She likes being licked. I flick my tongue over the spot just below her ear then pull her earlobe into my mouth, tugging gently with my teeth. The move earns me a unique sound from Elphie which is halfway between a gasp and a mewl.

Slowly, I kiss just above her collarbone and slide my tongue over the prominent dip of her clavicle. I am propped up on my forearms but my fingers are free to curl against her sides as I draw the flesh of her throat back into my mouth, harder than I have ever previously kissed her there. She arches her back, pressing her breasts firmly against me. She is ready for more.

I raise myself up, tracing the "v" of her neckline with a single finger, teasing the exposed skin of her chest. My hands slide to her sash, loosening the knot with a gentle caress across her waist. I part the sides of the robe just enough to expose her breasts to me. For a moment, I just want to look at them: lovely little emerald mounds that appear as if they were designed to fit perfectly into the curves of my palms. Her nipples are darker green, but now they've taken on a purplish cast just like her skin does when it bruises. For all the times I've seen her without her clothes, I've never seen her nipples this color before. I have also never seen them quite so firm. I could not imagine them being any firmer than they are at this moment. Then again, I am about to test that theory.

Elphie fidgets nervously beneath my gaze. So, I close my eyes as I trail my tongue up over the underside of her right breast, flicking it across the nipple just once. She places a hand on my shoulder and her fingers dig into my skin as I repeat the process with her left. I am pleased with just how responsive she is to my attentions. I take one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard then gently lapping with my tongue as I roll the other between my thumb and forefinger. She grips my shoulders with both hands now. I'm not sure if she's aware of how hard she's squeezing or of the way her hips have begun to lift and roll beneath mine. Responsive may have been an understatement. Suddenly, she freezes below me. "Glinda?" she asks tentatively.

"Yes Elphie?" I ask.

"I think I need a moment," she says. Obligingly, I move aside, but she rolls onto her side and reaches out for me, wrapping me up in her arms. I embrace her in return, stroking her hair with the hand that is not trapped between us. I will let her decide where this goes now; if it ends here with us just holding each other, it will be enough for me. "Are you alright?" she asks me.

Me? "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" I ask in return. "I am far more than alright." I knead at the back of her neck as best as I can from the angle that we are in, trying to reassure her.

She doesn't answer my question. Instead, she responds to the question I never voiced; if _she_ is alright. "I just… never knew that it was possible to feel so much pleasure. I fear, my sweet, that you are killing me." Her voice is shaky; it is almost as if her own body has frightened her in its willingness to be carried away. Frightened or not, she slides back out of my arms to unfasten the sash of her robe completely. The silk falls away around her. I have seen her naked before, but I feel as if I am seeing her for the first time. It is a sight I will never tire of; not in a million years.

I trail a single finger from the top of her ribcage, down between her breasts and over her abdomen. Her muscles tremble beneath my touch and I follow the trail again with my lips, raining a series of feather-light kisses down to her belly. This time it doesn't seem to tickle her. Her fingers thread into my hair and scrape lightly against my scalp. My tongue circles her navel and dips into it with a slow, flickering motion. Her entire body tenses quivers in response. I reach for her hand, gently weaving my fingers between hers to give a reassuring squeeze.

She relaxes a little bit as I nuzzle my cheek lower against the smooth skin of her stomach, finally brushing against the dark swatch of soft hair at the apex of her thighs. It surprises me when I realize what it is that I intend to do; the desire that is coming so naturally to me now. I never let Fiyero do this to me - it seemed far too intimate an act. Now, it seems the very purpose of my existence. My free hand strokes one of Elphie's thighs, then the other, in a gentle effort to ease them apart. There is a certain amount of tension; of resistance. But an involuntary moan escapes _my_ lips and that is what finally breaks it. She relaxes, legs parting to reveal the one part of her I have yet to see.

My eyes do not linger long on her center. She's beautiful; there isn't any doubt. It's only that I am far too eager. I gaze just long enough to lightly brush my fingers against her, mapping out the territory that my tongue will follow. Her fingers give an involuntary twitch in my hand. "Really?" she asks me. There is nervousness in her voice, but her cheeks are flushed dark green with a desire which I am hoping will triumph over her nerves.

"I love you," I say, focusing my eyes upon hers, "_all_ of you. Please allow me to demonstrate exactly how much." She gives the smallest, most subtle of nods, closing her eyes. I close mine too, willing myself to focus on my other senses. And then I am there, feeling and smelling and tasting her. It is more wonderful than I could have imagined, but I struggle to remember exactly how this goes in my books. My tongue feels awkward and clumsy against her; my licks tentative and fumbling. They still elicit a tiny encouraging whimper from the back of Elphie's throat. So I become bolder, more exploratory in my movements, varying from the lightest of strokes to slower, firmer ones.

It is one of the firmer strokes which causes her to tense and sigh out, "_Glindaaaaaa_."

And so I do it again. I repeat the motion and she hooks one of her knees over my shoulder, pulling me in closer. I brace myself against the bed with my free hand, trying to remember to breathe as her hips begin to move in a gentle counter-rhythm to my tongue. "Glinda," she repeats quietly and breathily like a mantra. I am quite certain that I could die right now from sheer arousal.

I keep on as she inhales deeper, whimpering quietly, rocking beneath me. Feeling daring, I spell out her name with my tongue. I spell out "I love you" against her most delicate parts. I'm sure she's oblivious to the hidden message, but there is something about the "o"s that make her moans even more desperate. So I keep them up; firm little circles against her bud.

Then it happens. She gasps and all at once her leg clamps down on my shoulder, the other one hooking around me. She arches her back so much that she just about levitates from the mattress. Her entire body shakes and quivers and spasms. She doesn't make a single sound. The intensity of it is overwhelming, so much so that I'm frightened by her stillness afterward.

I crawl up beside her, straining to get a look at her face. "Elphie?" I ask. "Elphie, are you still breathing?" She manages to give a small nod through half-lidded eyes and the corner of her mouth quirks into a smile. I pull her close, feeling less resistance in her body than I ever have before. It is as if her bones have turned to jelly. So I lay beside her, reveling in the results of my efforts. It is only once I start to drift off that she begins to stir again, waking me with a series of eager kisses and a determination to reciprocate the pleasure I've just given her…

* * *

I sit by the bedroom window, biting my lip in concentration as I sketch with the colored pencil set that Fiyero procured for me. I am designing the dresses that we will wear for our appearance in Red Windmill. We have chosen to go to the center of the village on market day; Elphie has perfected a spell that will raise a podium from the ground to put us out of reach but in plain sight of the villagers.

Our outfits are an important part of the plan. More than ever, I need to convey authority. Because, for the first time, I will not be encouraging anyone to rejoice. I will not be telling the citizens of Oz to relax because their Wizard has everything under control; I need them to understand the severity of his deception. And I need them to know that I am speaking of my own free will, not under the influence of a spell. Instead of a glittering ball gown, I have opted for a pencil skirt, cropped jacket and a beret which all of my hair will be pinned back underneath: a simple, crisp silhouette which does not distract from anything that I have to say.

By contrast, I need to make Elphie look as unthreatening and blameless as possible. I need her to look innocent; sweet; girlish. The dress I've drawn for her has a princess neckline, short puffy sleeves and a ruffled skirt which ends at the knee. A petticoat or two beneath it would not hurt. Her hair will be down and curled into soft waves. I begin coloring the dresses. They will be unified in their color: a light shade of cream which will flatter us both while making Elphie look less severe.

The bedroom door creaks open. "What are you working on?" Elphie inquires.

"Our outfits for our… presentation," I reply, looking up for just a second. After she mastered the clothing transformation spell, she wasted little time in magicking up an exact replica of the dress that she wore to our audience with the Wizard, and continued to wear for years after… I suppose it's better than the pajamas.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about your speech?" she asks, her voice slightly condescending.

"I'm setting the tone for it first," I answer, perhaps a bit sharply. She walks to where I am, looking over my shoulder.

"Sweet Oz, you can't expect me to wear…"

"Shush, Elphaba," I chide. "I know what I'm doing."

"You seemed stressed," she says, voice softening.

"Drawing was never a talent of mine," I confess. "These dresses look so one-dimensional."

"It gets the point across, my sweet. That's really all that you need to do. I will do the rest." She snakes an arm around my shoulder, kneading at the muscle there. "Why don't you put down the sketch pad?"

"And do what?" I ask, expecting her eyes to wander in the direction of the bed. Not that I would protest that very much.

"I was thinking we could work on some spells," she says. I feel my jaw go slack as the words sink in. I've awaited the moment when she would finally be willing to teach me some magic and it seems as if it has come at last. She has my full attention.

"Let's go outside," she says, pulling the Grimmerie from her new satchel, where she has guarded it since my recovery, and beckoning for me to follow her. She leads me out through the door off the kitchen into a small garden. We pass Fiyero's mother's rosebushes and a deserted vegetable patch to reach a row of small sapling trees on the perimeter of the plot. They must be recently planted; they barely reach to my knees. Here, Elphie kneels on the ground and opens the Grimmerie. "I want to try something, Glinda," she says. "I have a theory that I want to test."

She traces her fingers over the spell written on the pages then concentrates her attention to one of the saplings as she begins to chant. The spell sounds simple enough. "_Grandia brotamekar plummes. Grandia brotamekar plummes._" The tiny tree begins to grow, from knee-height to waist-height as its branches spread, becoming thicker and fuller with leaves. Elphie stops, panting. She's expended a great deal of energy. I put my hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me. "I want you to try with the one right beside it. But take it easy and stop when you feel winded."

And so I kneel, closing my eyes and placing my hands on the ground at the root of the tree before me. I resolve to keep my eyes closed instead of worrying about whether the spell is working. I do not need to look at the Grimmerie; who knows if I'd be able to read it anyway? The words are still ringing in my ears. I speak them quietly. "_Grandia brotamekar plummes._"

I feel a warmth rise in my chest, slowly radiating up into my shoulders, down my arms and finally to my palms. This feels like the healing spell, only slower; more controlled. I continue for another moment before I feel a slow burn in my right palm. The scar there is heating up; stinging. I don't feel tired at all, but I force myself to stop. I open my eyes to look at my palm. The wound has not split open again, but the scar looks rawer and redder than before. Then I glance up at the tree.

Up.

For it is taller now than I am on my knees. It is nearly taller than Elphie is on her feet and small white flowers have sprouted from the branches. My head swims as I turn to look at her. Have I actually… done better than she has? Better than the girl who was Morrible's magical protégé; the girl who was offered employment by the Wizard based on the sheer capacity of her powers?

"My hypothesis has been proven," she says, smiling at me.

"You mean about my hand?" I question. It's certainly no reason to smile. She takes it in hers, tracing a finger soothingly over the irritated skin.

"I should say my hypotheses," she amends, glancing at the tree. "After your performance with the healing spell, I began to suspect that the reason you did not excel in magic at Shiz is that you were studying the wrong kind of magic all along. I can levitate things. I can transmute and manipulate them into different forms. But when it comes to life magic – healing and growing – I am only mediocre. You, my sweet, seem to have a natural affinity for it."

I look at the tree, then back to her, then back to the tree. I'm trying to process it all. "You know, it makes sense," she tells me, smiling a warm and genuine smile. "You've been healing me slowly since the first time your hands ever touched me." I leap to my feet and throw my arms around her, nearly knocking her off-kilter as I pull her body tightly against mine.

"Elphie, it always astounds me that one so practical as yourself is capable of such romantic statements," I say.

She laughs softly, returning my embrace and tucking my hair behind my ear.

"We need to figure out what to do about that hand, though," she mumbles against my forehead.


End file.
